


Anchored

by imhungry



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon?, F/F, F/M, I had an idea and ran with it, I strayed from canon a bit, I wouldn't get attached to a certain someone, It starts out pretty vanilla, Its gonna hurt later., On Hiatus until i finish my other fic., Satya and Winston are bffs, Shit goes down later, Who is she?, i dont know her, nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9919058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhungry/pseuds/imhungry
Summary: Lena Oxton, Hana Song, and Winston start out as orphans. Amélie is a diplomat's daughter. Fareeha's life is a mess. You're a mess. I'm a messIt's lit.





	1. Paper Planes

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I write. Enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "--" Is a memory.
> 
> This is the first fic i write. please enjoy.

Winter in King’s Row was gorgeous. Snow blanketed the sidewalks and the window sills. Frost kissed the shop windows and gave everything a wonderland type feel. Winter was amazing. People looked forward to the kaleidoscope of holidays celebrated. Holiday cheer was always contagious and almost everyone felt the warmth of home. Almost everyone.

A small figure scurried away from an angry baker that chased behind her. Her frail frame did nothing to impede her from dodging obstacles in her path.

“GET BACK HERE! THIEF!” The baker roared. She didn’t have enough strength to laugh or else she would have. Her bony legs carried her faster than people thought they could. She had been running for a good bit and although her lungs were screaming, she ran like a bullet fresh out of the chamber.

The wind in her hair made her feel like she was flying. She cradled the stolen loaves of bread close to her chest as if they were the most precious things in the world. She looked down at the loot in her arms and smiled. They haven’t eaten in days, and although she doesn’t like stealing, she knew she had to survive somehow. She was too distracted by her thoughts that she didn’t see the loose slab of concrete protruding ever so slightly. Her foot caught on the edge and she tripped. Her tiny body slammed down and she skid across the ground. The bread tumbled away from her and into a crowd of people. She watched helplessly as it all was trampled to bits. All the loaves. Save one.

Lena Oxton scrambled to get up but a massive hand yanked her up by her arm. She turned to face a very angry and very out of breath baker.

“Finally got ya! You bloody thief!” The baker kept a firm grip on her. She tried her best to squirm free, but the lack of nutrition was apparent. She had no strength. It was a miracle she could even run.

The baker finally took the time to study the girl in his grip. Her short hair was matted to her forehead. Her shoes riddled with holes and tears, the sole falling off the shoe itself despite the duct tape and the assortment of stickers placed to prevent it. Her long-sleeved shirt crinkled in his hand, newspapers lined the inside. Something to try and keep her warm in the coming months. The baker took notice of her grimy face. Her eyes, burning with defiance, didn’t belong on her ghoulishly thin face.

Lena kept squirming. She had to get to that last loaf of bread at least, she couldn’t afford not to.

“How old are you?” The baker asked.

Her attention snapped back to him, the change in tone surprised her. She just looked at him in confusion.

“Where are your parents?”

She dropped her gaze. Tears stung in her eyes.

“Was it the wars?”

Lena simply nodded, eyes still on the ground. Sympathy and sadness replaced the baker’s anger.

“I lost my little boy in the wars.” A beat passed. “Come.” The baker beckoned.

He guided her through the crowded streets, all the way back to his bakery.

“Wait here.” He told her when they arrived.

Lena’s eyes darted around the establishment. The shop was warm and smelled of a variety of sweets and sugars. An array of pastries was on display in a case by the checkout. People were lined out the door waiting to place an order.

Lena had gotten into the bakery earlier through the back door that had been left open carelessly by someone taking a smoke break. She had darted in and almost made a clean escape. However, the baker saw her just as she was running back out.

She fidgeted in her seat. Sitting still was hard for her but she didn’t want to cause any more problems than she already had. People didn’t take much notice of her sitting in the corner. They were too preoccupied with their food. The bagels, donuts, and cakes on the tables made her mouth water. It had been days. She heard liquid pouring and she realized how thirsty she was. Thankfully, she and the others had access to running water. There was a restaurant with a water hose that the employees used to wash away the dirt and grime that accumulated outside of the establishment. It was enough for Lena and her family.

She watched people eat their treats while her stomach rumbled. Lena wondered what it would feel like to never worry about where the next meal was going to come from. The baker’s approaching footsteps pull her out of her thoughts.

“Here.” He handed her a bag. “It’s not much. The deli next door gave a little. But it’s something.”

Lena glanced at the bag, then at him, and back at the bag. She moved to open it, but the baker stopped her.

“Open it when you get to wherever it is you stay.” He paused. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

Lena hesitated before nodding her head. “Yes, sir.” She croaked.

The baker knelt in front of her. She looked at his kind eyes. He reminded her of a cherub, except he didn’t have a full head of hair like the ones in the paintings in the shop windows. He sported a bald spot that covered the entire top of his head. She smiled at him.

“Promise you won’t steal again? Not just from me, but from anyone.”

Lena nodded. The guilt of her petty crimes was beginning to weigh on her. She stole whenever she could out of necessity.

“If you need anything, come to me. I’ll give you what I can. Just promise not to steal. Have we got a deal, lass?”

They shook on it. The baker’s hands were warm, a sharp contrast to Lena’s freezing cold ones.

Lena walked out the front door and broke into a run back to the little makeshift shack she called home. Home was quite a few alleys away from the bakery. She had wandered out in search of food that morning but hadn’t realized exactly how far she had gone.

She was out of breath when she arrived at her alley.

“Hana! Winston!”

* * *

Food was scarce and good shelter was even rarer. Gangs of kids not much older than them would often harass them for food and what little they had in their possession. Keeping an iron grip on personal items was a lesson they learned rather quickly.

Overwatch was no longer in its former glory. The worst of the omnic crisis had ended 3 years ago, which also brought an end to Overwatch’s famed strike team. Unfortunately, the disbanding of the strike team did nothing to solve the abundance of problems left over from the war. Millions of orphans remained. World economies crashed and countries scrambled to rebuild cities wrecked by Overwatch’s war against terror. Funding for orphanages and schools were the first to be cut. Children flooded the streets, forming gangs to protect themselves. Crime ran rampant as they developed into more malicious entities which dabbled in extortion, drug running, and other various illicit activities.

Caught in the middle of all of this, were three young children.

Winston sat on a waste bin outside of their makeshift shack, waiting patiently for Lena to return. He worries about her whenever she goes out in search of their next meal. He knows how unforgiving the world can be. The universe, to be exact. He shudders, snippets of memory from his time on the moon coming back to him. He had witnessed the horrors of violence first hand at an early age. The omnics weren’t the only ones organizing an uprising.

The echo of feet rapidly slapping against the concrete makes him look up. He wonders how she has enough energy to run around as much as she does.

“Winston!” Lena called out, a big grin on her grimy face.

Winton felt himself begin to smile as well. Lena’s happy-go-lucky attitude was often contagious. He hops off the trash can, the clatter echoes up and down the alley. He ducks into their home.

“Hana!” He pokes a large finger at the small lump under the covers. He hears Hana grumble but she doesn’t make a move to rise from the comfort of the little crate she sleeps in.

“Hana, come on.” Winston pokes at her again. Nothing.

Lena pulled back the large blue tarp they used to keep out the elements from their home. She panted loudly, the morning run took a toll on her. Her cheeks were pink and her hair was slightly windswept, making some of the matted locks stand.

“Still won’t wake up?” Lena asked, breathlessly.

“It’s like waking the dead” Winston mumbled. He tried shaking the lump again but Hana simply rolled away, curling up into an impossibly tighter ball.

Lena’s eyes lit up, an idea forming in her head.

“Oh well, Winston. I guess we will have to enjoy this yummy food that’s in this bag all by ourselves.” Lena stifled a giggle.

“What about Han-“ Winston’s eyes lit up as well as soon as he caught onto the act. “OH, Oh yes. Um. It smells delicious, Lena.” He paused. “What is it?”

Lena realized she still hadn’t looked into the bag. She dropped down to her knees and placed the bag on the ground, gingerly. She carefully opened it and reached a hand inside. Winston watched in rapt attention.

She pulled out something wrapped in wax paper and handed it off to Winston, who could barely contain his excitement at discovering whatever was in the bag. Winston quickly unwrapped it, revealing a small container filled with peanut butter. His stomach growled in anticipation. He hadn’t had any peanut butter since his time on the moon, the taste was becoming a distant memory with every passing day. Lena looked up at him, a small smile spreading on her face.

“Dig in, big guy. We don’t like peanut butter anyway.”

He all but inhaled it.

While Winston was licking his hands and lips, Lena pulled out a loaf of bread. She carefully ripped a piece of it off to reveal the raisins and nuts baked into the bread. She inhaled the glorious scent of banana.

The lump in the crate must have also smelled it because Hana shot up, hair wild and tangled. Eyes bright. She looked out of sorts.

“Is that banana bread?” Winston asked, his stomach growling the loudest of the three. “Also, good morning Han.”

Lena chuckled and divided the bread into thirds. She was about to hand them off when she saw something else poking out of the bag.

“Wait! Look!” She pulled out a huge pack of toothbrushes and a giant tube of toothpaste. There was a note from the baker attached as well.

_‘Wasn’t sure how many to pack. Here’s 7.’_

“Do we all get one?” Hana finally spoke up. Her small grimy face didn’t look as tired or groggy as it had earlier.

Lena nodded. She held the note in her hands, grateful that such a kind person had come into their lives. Winston had a gleam in his eye.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

They all ran to the hose and brushed their teeth several times, overjoyed at the minty fresh taste in their mouth. They decided to ration the toothpaste once they were done celebrating. Lena tucked it away safely in her waistband. The movements made the newspapers in her clothes crinkle. Paper linings always made for good insulation during winter.

Lena secretly wished for a hot cup of tea when the wind blew, unforgivingly cold. The snow crunched under their feet. On their way back, Winston saw an infamous pair of boys eyeballing them. “Let’s take a different way home.” He whispered. Lena nodded when she saw what put him on edge.

“Come on, Hana. Don’t let go of my hand.” Hana’s small hand kept an iron grip on Lena’s.

“Those are the Junkers, right?” Winston murmured. He heard one of them cackle and it made his stomach churn.

Lena looked back again, a bit alarmed when she saw they were gone. “Yeah, I think so. They’re the Aussies everyone keeps talking about I think.”

“What’s the story behind that?” Winston asked. Lena shook her head.

“I don’t know and I’m not sure I want to know.” Lena looked down at Hana, who was blissfully lost in her own daydreams. A smile crept onto Lena’s face.

They walked in silence. Winston occasionally looking behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed. For a moment, he felt safe.

It was not to last.

When they turned the corner, they found the two boys had beat them there first. The Junkers were ransacking their home. They could hear them making a mess of things.

The wind blew the tarp up and they saw the smaller boy digging into the baker’s bag. He was greedily chomping on the banana bread from earlier. The bigger boy was gobbling down on slices of sandwich meat, also from the bag.

Hana let out a small squeak of despair and it made the boy stop. The smaller one stopped what he was doing and looked up to find the source of the noise. Lena pushed Hana behind her when she saw the glint in his eye. Lena turned and crouched to Hana’s eye level. It pained her to see her so terrified. “Hana, run and hide. We’ll find you.” She gave Hana a hug before pushing her away. Lena watched as she ran down the alley, her footsteps hard to hear over the din of cars and radiators.

Winston began to panic. Despite his size, he wasn’t much of a fighter. He always hated that Lena needed to come to his rescue even though he was bigger and older than her. Winston wished he was as brave as Lena.

“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” The smaller boy said as he emerged from the shack. His face was dirty and covered in ash. The other boy looked like a giant, his body plump despite living on the streets. The Junker boys were known on the streets for their cunning and thieving. To Winston and Lena, they were just bullies. Not much was known about them except for the fact that they left a path of havoc wherever they went.

Lena mustered up as much courage as she could. But she felt herself begin to tremble. The stories she heard about these boys echoed in her head. The bigger one liked knocking teeth out if the demands of the smaller one weren't met.

“I’m Junkrat. That’s Roadhog over there.” The one called Junkrat strolled over to Lena, getting uncomfortably close. She could smell the smoke, ash, and sweat on him. He couldn’t have been more than 15. He was unusually short for his age. Roadhog, on the other hand, was already towering over everyone. Winston tried not to gag when he caught a whiff of Roadhog.

Junkrat’s hand shot out. He grabbed Lena’s face. She reached up and tried to pry his fingers off her jaw, but his bony grip was too strong for her.

“I’m only gonna ask once, mate. Got any other goodies for us?”

“Yes, but they aren’t for you.”

“You’ll hand ‘em over or you and I are gonna have a blue. Got it?” Junkrat kept his grip on her face but extended his hand to receive whatever they had left. But Lena refused to give up the toothpaste from earlier that morning. She kicked herself for not giving it to Hana when she had the chance.

A strangled cry came from Winston. Roadhog had him in a headlock. With as malnourished and weak as he was, there was no way Winston could fight him off.

“Alright! Alright! Fine!” Lena reached for the toothpaste she had tucked into her waistband. But it was gone. She began to panic and tried her best to look around on the ground, but Junkrat’s grip wouldn’t let her.

“Well, where is it?” He asked, impatiently tapping his foot. Lena gulped. She could have sworn she tucked it away earlier and she didn’t feel it fall. She looked at Winston apologetically. Lena didn’t think a tube of toothpaste was worth Winston getting hurt but she couldn’t find it. She hoped he knew that. But Winston had his eyes on something else. Lena saw Junkrat and Roadhog also look to whatever it was that held Winston’s attention.

“STOP!” A voice called out from the entrance of the alley. Lena couldn’t quite make out the figure because of the position her head was in but the voice sounded feminine. The distraction made Junkrat loosen his grip and Lena used the opportunity to land a well-placed kick on his shin. He yelped in pain. Lena almost squealed in victory but Junkrat’s fist collided with her stomach before she could. She felt the wind escape from her lungs and she doubled over. Lena lay on the ground gasping like a fish out of water.

“STOP!” The voice called out again. She saw a figure charge into Junkrat and watched in wonder as he was brought to his knees. The person picked him up with ease and body slammed him into the ground. Lena saw that it was in fact a girl who had come to their rescue. She looked to be about 17. Dark hair and even darker eyes caught Lena’s attention. Her lungs were screaming for air but she was so entranced by the clinking of golden beads in the girl’s hair, she didn’t pay them any mind. There was something familiar in her movements. She radiated confidence and power in every move she made against Junkrat, who foolishly got to his feet after getting knocked down several times. Lena felt air returning to her lungs and a wave of pity rolled over her.

_Poor Junkie. Doesn’t know how to stay down._

“Watch out!” She tried to warn the girl, but her voice and her lungs betrayed her. A raspy whisper was all she could muster. Lena was so engrossed with watching the girl whale on Junkrat, she didn’t even notice when Roadhog had let go of Winston. She looked to where Winston’s unconscious body lay crumpled. Rage bubbled in her chest. She hated when her family got hurt and there was no way she was going to let these two get away with it. Lena’s attention was yanked back to the fight when she heard a sickening thud. Roadhog had managed to catch the stranger off guard. The force of the blow had knocked her down beside Junkrat, who took the opportunity to roll on top of her and land punch after punch on her face.

Lena felt a rush of adrenaline and charged at Junkrat. She didn’t have much strength from months of not eating properly, but the amount of courage she had was enough for her to pounce on the bully and yank him off the girl. She began biting and clawing wherever she could. Junkrat was screaming in pain at the attack. He tried grabbing her arm and yanking her off, but she refused to let go. He twirled and twirled, frantic to get the beast on his shoulders off.

* * *

Hana loved walking alongside Lena and Winston. She felt safe with them. Her first memories were of Lena holding her hands at the orphanage as they watched the fireworks. The city was celebrating the end of the Crisis.

\--

_Hana whimpered. She had been herded out with the rest of the children to watch the celebration. Despite her protests, she was taken outside regardless. People had no regard for her small body. Their frenzied movements jostled her roughly. They knocked her down, scoffing when they realized she was an orphan._

_“Out of my way, you waif.” One of them had said. Someone stepped on her tiny fingers and she cried out. Tears began to stream from her face. Her whimpers were drowned out by the din of people and pyrotechnics. She managed to stand, not seeing a distracted spectator running straight for her._

_There was suddenly a cold hand that grabbed her own and tugged her out of the way just in time. Another explosion. Hana felt the boom of the explosions rattle her chest and she didn’t like the feeling. She began to whimper again, fresh tears pooling in her eyes._

_Someone knelt in front of her. Mouse brown hair. Warm brown eyes._

_“Hey, hey. Don’t worry. I won’t let anythin’ hurt ya. I promise.”_

_Cold, dirty hands wiped her tears away. She felt her fear slowly begin to dissipate._

\--

It took her a few years to realize it was Lena who had promised to keep her from harm.  She loved Lena dearly. Winston too. They had picked up Winston on a rare sunny afternoon. Some kids had decided to use him as target practice for their makeshift slingshot range. Hana felt safe with him too. She thought they were the bravest and strongest in the world. She didn’t feel an ounce of fear when she was with them.

She felt uneasy when she saw those boys raiding their home.  The same cold fear from that night so long ago began to seep into her bones once more when Hana saw the look of fear in Lena’s eyes. She ran as fast as she could, like Lena would, to find help. Her side burned and she felt dizzy as she ran. The effects of low blood sugar beginning to show. Hana kept running regardless, careful to avoid any ice patches. The cold was ripping through her rags, making her face, fingers, and feet numb. The thought of Lena needing her help propelled her forward. But she slipped, falling forward. She threw her arms out in front of her.

Hana looked back, eyes sweeping the ground for whatever caused her to fall. Her eyes landed on something in the snow. It seemed to be metallic and it was apparent her foot had crushed it when she stepped on it. She rushed to stand again and grabbed at whatever it was.

_Toothpaste._

She began to run again, past the alley with the water hose, looking desperately for a police officer. Hana caught a glimpse of a blue uniform.

“HEY!” Her small voice lost in the bustle of people and noises of the city. She ran after the uniform, catching up to the officer.

“HEY!” She called to him, pulling on his pant leg to get his attention. “Help!”

“Huh?” The officer looked down at Hana, neutral expression immediately souring when he realized she was one of the many kids on the streets, “Hey kid, scram!” He shoved her away and kept walking.

Hana’s anger far outweighed her fear, and she stood once more. She willed her legs to move with the same speed and ferocity she imagined Lena to have. She ran like the wind. However, she ran straight into someone. The force of the blow sent both the toothpaste and her flying to the ground. She felt panic begin to settle in her bones.

“Woah there!” The person knelt and helped Hana to her feet with one hand. The other hand grabbed the toothpaste off the ground before a bystander stepped on it. She handed it back to Hana. “Are you alright?” The stranger asked.

Hana shook her head.

“Are you lost?” Kind brown eyes looked into Hana’s frightened ones. Hana shook her head again. The stranger sighed. “My name is Fareeha. Do you want to tell me your name?”

Hana paused for a moment, contemplating. Lena always said not to talk to strangers, but there was something so inviting and comforting about this one.

“Hana.”

“Hana. That’s a pretty name.” Fareeha stopped for a moment, taking in the details of the small girl. She noticed the dirt and grime. Her heart hurt for her. “How can I help you today, Hana? Are you in trouble?”

Panic set in as Hana remembered what she was there for. “My family! There are bullies and they’re hurting my big brother and sister!”

Something snapped in Fareeha. A protective instinct took over. It was something she inherited from her mother.

“Lead me to them,” she said.

Fareeha followed the child through winding streets and stumbled a few times, but the sense of urgency propelled her forward. Fareeha was always willing to help those in need. Therefore, it was no surprise when her heart broke at the sight of the squalor her new friend was living in. But the heartbreak was quickly replaced by fury when she saw a gorilla being held hostage by a tall, burly boy and another boy holding a scrawny girl by her face.

“Stay here until I tell you, okay?” Fareeha told Hana.

Bullies were among her least favorite kinds of people.

But they did make for good fighting practice.

* * *

 

Lena was struggling to hold on, Junkrat was hitting her head with his fists and it was not at all enjoyable for her. It was a relief when he stopped but she saw Roadhog had landed a few good blows, her morale plummeted. The other girl now had a cut above her now bruised eye and a bloody nose. It looked like her lip was busted, but she kept her arms raised and ready for another underhanded attack. Lena mentally praised her for having the stamina and courage to fight such a daunting opponent.

Unfortunately, Junkrat had gotten the bright idea of slamming himself against the wall, using Lena as a cushion. Pain bloomed in her back her body impacted the wall, but she held on, inspired by the fighter’s courage. Junkrat kept slamming himself and her against the bricks, not caring if he caused and serious harm. There was a pipe running along the wall, and with every hit, Junkrat inched closer and closer to it until finally, Lena’s head hit it with a loud clank. Lena went limp and crashed to the ground, unconscious and face first.

“Let’s go!” Junkrat called out to Roadhog. They both were sporting injuries from their scuffle but not enough to impede their escape.

“Damn it.” Fareeha felt frustrated. Her arrogance had cost her the victory. Such thoughts were cast aside when she saw the two unconscious kids Hana had called her to save. She checked on the gorilla first, a bit fearful and apprehensive. She didn’t know much about gorillas and checking their vitals. But upon seeing him stir, she felt relief.

 _Probably a sleeper hold,_ Fareeha thought. She stood and walked over to where the other girl had fallen. Fareeha found her courage admirable. There was so much fight in such a small body. She carefully rolled the girl over, placing her index finger under her nose to make sure she was still breathing. She sighed in relief when she felt the faint bursts of air on her finger, but it quickly melted into concern when she heard the girl faintly wheezing.

“Grab your things.” Fareeha beckoned Hana to come closer, “You’re all coming with me.”

She knew life was going to change for everyone.

But she had hope it was going to be for the better.

* * *

She had a massive headache. It felt like a tiny man had taken a sledge hammer to the inside of her skull. It took her a moment before she realized she was warm and comfortable. She sat up and watched as the room spun. A wave of nausea washed over her and she stumbled out of bed. Lena’s limbs felt like lead and she could only watch as the ground got closer to her face.

A door opened and a figure rushed forward to catch her just in time.

“Woah! You shouldn’t be out of bed.” The stranger from the alley had caught Lena with one arm. The other had a tray with water and some fruit balanced on it. The stranger helped back onto the bed and waited for her to settle down before placing the tray in her lap. “You have cracked ribs and a concussion. I wiped your face and your arms down, to help you feel clean. Eat something first and then you can shower.”

“Who are you?” Lena asked. She was nervous and with good reason. Many of the local gangs had taken children off the streets to use as drug mules and runners. She feared this was one of their schemes.

“Fareeha Amari.” She reached her hand out. Lena accepted and shook it cautiously.

“Lena Oxton.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lena.” Fareeha grabbed a stool from under the nightstand next to the bed and took a seat by Lena.

“Where’s Hana and Winston?” Lena was tempted to make a run for it, anything to escape the horrors she had heard so much about.

“They’re safe,” Fareeha reassured her. It was hard to trust someone she just met, but the sincerity in her eyes made Lena lower her guard. Not completely, but enough to reconsider escaping.

“Eat, I’ll take you to them before you shower.” Fareeha gestured to the tray. A slice of toast cut in half and a fruit cup with a glass of water.

“Why did you help us?” Lena couldn’t fathom why a stranger would help 3 nameless orphans. Few showed them much kindness through the years.

Fareeha shrugged, “It was the right thing to do.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. A smile spread on her face, “And I couldn’t let a fierce warrior like you fight alone, now could I?

Lena laughed softly, completely forgetting about her ribs. “Ow!” She gingerly cradled her side.

“Here,” Fareeha picked something up from Lena’s tray and handed them to her. Lena looked at them, realizing they were gummy bears. “They’re pain killers that my mom used to give me whenever I broke a bone. They’re better than pills and work faster.”

Lena quickly shoved them in her mouth, wasting no time in chewing. She swallowed and after a few more seconds, felt the pain in her side fade.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, kid.” Fareeha stood and walked to the closet on the other side of the room. Lena hadn’t even noticed it when she woke up. “Here.” Fareeha put a small pile of clothes on the end of Lena’s bed. “Eat. Then shower. I’ll change the sheets while you’re gone.”

“Will you stay with me while I eat?” Lena asked. She didn’t want to lose the feeling of safety she felt with Fareeha quite yet.

“Of course.”

* * *

 

The shower was like heaven to Lena. After Fareeha helped her turn it on, she enjoyed the feeling of warm water gently rolling onto her head and down her face. Lena watched in wonder as soot black water swirled down the drain. She made as many bubbles as she could and even sculpted herself a fancy bubble beard. It felt nice to be clean and warm again. Her injuries long forgotten. She brushed her teeth until her mouth hurt.

Lena looked in the mirror and hardly recognized the girl staring back at her. Years of hardship washed away with the dirty water. It had been a while since she saw her face. She had seen her reflection in shop windows and puddles, but her face was always too grimy or busy running to ever get a good look. Lena’s face had taken on a skeletal look. Malnourishment had made her eyes sink into her skull and her cheekbones stick out. Angry red bruises were forming on her face and stomach. Lena was incredibly sore.

She sighed and opened the door. Fareeha had walked her to Hana and Winston’s rooms before the shower and offered to wait outside while Lena washed up. She sat cross-legged on the floor reading a book. Mythology, Lena guessed.

“Do you feel better?”

Lena smiled and nodded. With fresh clothes and minty fresh breath, she felt like a brand-new person.

“Thank you.”

Fareeha rose to her feet. She tucked her book under her arm and guided Lena back to her room. She had changed the sheets as promised while Lena showered.

“Alright, champ.” Fareeha pulled the covers back and gestured for Lena to lie down, “It’s late and way past your bedtime.”

“I’ve never had a bedtime.” Lena yawned. She rubbed her eyes and climbed into what felt more like a cloud than a bed.

“You do now.”

Lena drifted off into a restful sleep before she could reply.

Fareeha sighed and made her way to the living room. She wondered how she would explain it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my returning readers, Guess what's finally here?!  
> this chapter all the way to brothers is new. feel free to reread this entire thing cause i tweaked those chapters too. Idk lemme know. have fun.
> 
> If you guys make posts or fanart, don't hesitate to let me know. i'll treasure everything i promise lol. I'll be tracking the Anchored OWAU tag on tumblr. Thank you for your support guys. i love youuu
> 
> Every chapter is named after a song that kinda has ties to the theme of the chapter.  
> M.I.A.- [Paper Planes](https://youtu.be/CBqvbednAhY)


	2. Smile

Reinhardt loved Fareeha like a daughter. She became his kid the minute her biological father washed his hands of her when she was 3 years old. The man had valued nurturing his career over nurturing a family. Ana had at least tried to be in her daughter’s life while she ran around and saved the world. But even that had put a strain on their relationship. On some days, Reinhardt could tell there was resentment on Fareeha’s part. Ana’s death was so sudden. Witnesses stated they saw her shot down from her post by a stray bullet. Her body was never found. It caused rumors to fly. Some said the enemy had taken her body to examine, attempting to replicate her skill in genetically engineered super soldiers. Others said it was an explosion which burnt her body to an unrecognizable crisp.

He had fought through enough wars and conflicts to learn that dying a gruesome death was at times, unavoidable. He had witnessed those closest to him get torn to shreds by war machines. Burying empty coffins was something he had gotten accustomed to. Bodies were often maimed beyond recognition or sometimes there just wasn’t enough left. Other times, there simply was no body. An unfortunate statistic that Ana became a part of. But it didn’t sit right with him. The Ana he knew didn’t know how to stay down. Getting home to Fareeha was her ultimate mission. The day he got the news she was killed in action, he refused to believe she was dead. It had taken him years to accept her death. Reinhardt settled for revenge instead of holding onto the denial. The anger he felt combined with Fareeha’s pain pushed him to find Ana’s killer and avenge her death. Reinhardt would scour the ends of the earth to find them. Once Fareeha was old enough to care for herself, he began going out in search of closure. Some days it felt like the search was hopeless, that revenge was useless and cost more energy than it was worth. But then he would catch a glimpse of sadness lurking in Fareeha’s eyes. Or he would hear soft crying behind closed doors on the anniversary of Ana’s death, and then the fires of his rage were stoked once more.

Reinhardt drove through mostly empty streets. It is 3 a.m. but there were still a few stragglers on the streets. _True Survivor_ played quietly on his radio. His body ached, the years beginning to catch up with him. He had long since cut his majestically long hair, deciding he was much too old to be parading around with his luscious locks. Streaks of silver were beginning to appear, marking the end of his youth. He sighed every time he looked in the mirror. Old age was something he was reluctant to experience.

He carefully parallel parked. The neighbors were especially protective of their luxury cars. Reinhardt and Fareeha didn’t have much, but he knew better than to place exaggerated value on such frivolous things. He climbed out of the car, carefully closing the door. The muscles in his arms protested when he picked up his bags. He was grateful that Brigitte had come along with him. There had been a particularly rowdy bunch that called themselves The Dragons. He had passed through a town looking for leads on Ana’s killer and they had given him a rough time. Brigitte had fixed his armor, thankfully, but he still felt the imprint of the blows dealt to him.

Reinhardt looked up at his home. It was a four bedroom, three-bathroom brownstone with an office space, kitchen, dining room area, and a living room. Ana had bought it in her earlier days as an agent. She bought it under a fake name, using it to house herself and a few agents on the team from time to time. After her death, her will stipulated she wanted Fareeha and Reinhardt to move off base and into the home to live a quiet life. She had paid off the house completely with the money she made working for Overwatch and the rest of her money was put into a trust fund for when Fareeha graduated college. Unfortunately, it seemed Fareeha was hellbent on going to the military instead. It was a problem for later he supposed.

The door creaked open, louder than he thought it would. Reinhardt cringed at the noise, but Fareeha’s voice called to him. He hadn’t seen the light on in the living room. He dropped his bags, no longer caring about the amount of noise he made. Fareeha’s voice sounded nervous and it made him anxious.

Reinhardt all but ran to the living room to check on her. His stomach twisted into knots when he saw the marks on her face. “Who did this to you, little one?” He felt his blood boil in anger.

“The Junker boys. Well mostly the tall one, but the smaller one got his ass handed to him by someone else.” She motioned for him to sit on the couch across from her.

Reinhardt sighed. He knew Ana wouldn’t approve of her getting into fights. “What happened?”

Fareeha took a deep breath. “Well, you see what happened was…”

Reinhardt sat quietly through her story. He was left in awe at the blows that the girls had taken. He knew Fareeha had a fighter’s heart and a warrior’s spirit, something she inherited from her mother. However, it still impressed him how much physical pain Fareeha could tolerate.

As Fareeha was talking, he saw how much she had aged. She was 17  but carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. He looked away, ashamed that he had spent these past few years chasing ghosts instead of caring for her properly.

“…So, then I brought them back here. I gave them some of my old clothes. Except Winston. I gave him one of your shirts. I didn’t think he would fit into anything of mine.” She began wringing her hands. “Reinhardt, I know I should have asked before bringing them back here, but I could not stand by and let them suffer more than they needed to.” Her eyes burned with determination. “I’ll get a job and I’ll help you pay the bills. But please don’t make them leave.”

Reinhardt’s chuckle made Fareeha’s confidence falter. “Oh, Little One. Do you think so little of me that you believe I would throw out three souls in need? Fareeha, I thought you knew me better.”

“I-I do!” She stammered. “I do, but I know it won’t be easy. Three extra mouths to feed? That’s a lot to take on overnight.”

Reinhardt puffed his chest out and flexed his arms, making Fareeha laugh. “I fought alongside your mother! I wrestled polar bears! Tigers!” Fareeha’s laughter filled the room. She loved Reinhardt’s playful side. When she was little, she believed his stories of fighting vicious beasts.

“There is nothing you or I cannot handle when we team up, Fareeha.”

* * *

Reinhardt made his way around the kitchen with ease. It was nice to hear laughter in the house again after so many years of quiet. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy Fareeha’s company, he simply missed seeing her eyes twinkle the way she used to when she was a child. It did her a world of good to have people to care for. Fareeha had a generous heart, something Reinhardt was scared for. He had seen the cruelest aspects of humanity and he feared for her on some days. People took advantage of whatever they could.

“What’s for breakfast, Mr. Wilhelm?” Winston asked. His stomach was rumbling loudly, which pulled a few giggles from Hana sitting next to him.

“What do you desire, young sir?” Reinhardt bowed ceremoniously, a wide smile on his face. Winston laughed, his laughter filling the room, “I guess banana pancakes if you can?”

“Of course! But in exchange, you will call me Reinhardt. Calling me ‘Mr. Wilhelm’ makes me feel old.”

“Deal.” Winston smiled.

Reinhardt knelt before Hana, who was still in Fareeha’s clothes. The sleeves had been tied, but her small body was still drowning in fabric.  “And what would you like for breakfast, your majesty?”

Hana smiled, showing the gap where her two front teeth were missing, “Cake?”

Reinhardt laughed, “Cake? Not eggs? Bacon?”

Hana shook her head, “Cake.”

“Alright, little one. Cake it is.” Reinhardt stood and began making pancakes and cake for the kids.

“Reinhardt, we can’t let her eat cake for breakfast!” Fareeha exclaimed. She stood to help Reinhardt with breakfast, leaving Hana and Winston sitting side by side. “She needs proper food!”

“Nonsense, Fareeha!” Reinhardt turned to face Fareeha, “Are you saying my chocolate lava cake isn’t ‘real food’?” He said, making air quotations.

“N-no. But she needs food that is actually healthy and nutritious.” Fareeha mumbled. She loved Reinhardt’s cooking, but her favorite dish from him was his chocolate cake. It was to die for.

“Don’t worry Fareeha. Today is a special day. It will be okay this once.” Reinhardt’s reassuring smile eased some of Fareeha’s concern. For a moment, at least. “Where is Lena?”

Winston opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a voice from the doorway, “Good morning, everyone!”

Hana shot up from her seat and barreled into Lena, nearly knocking her over.

“Watch her side, Little One,” Reinhardt called over his shoulder. Ana’s painkillers could only numb so much.

“Hey, Han! Are you alright?” Lena kneeled and gave Hana a proper hug.

“I’m gonna have cake for breakfast!” She squealed happily. Winston had stood and made his way over to the girls and gingerly hugged both.

“Winston, you alright mate?” Lena asked, there was something sad in his eyes she couldn’t quite place.

“What? Yeah, no. All good.” There was something forced in his smile.

Lena was about to ask him again but was interrupted by Fareeha.

“Breakfast, Lena?”

She thought long and hard about what she wanted. All the food she fantasized about while she had none and Lena couldn’t think of a damn thing. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Protein shake and the tears of large bullies. Coming right up.” Fareeha laughed at the look on Lena’s face. “I’m kidding. I’ll surprise you. In the meantime, meet Reinhardt Wilhelm.”

Lena looked at the enormous man and her face immediately lit up.

“I know you! You’re one of them Overwatch heroes!”

“I used to be. Yes. But I wouldn’t call us heroes.” He sighed. “Our days were glorious but not always righteous.”

“I have a poster of him in his younger days, when he had long, blonde hair,” Fareeha whispered.

Lena’s eyes widened in wonder.

“Ah yes. My hair was amazing.” Reinhardt flipped his imaginary locks, earning a laugh from each of them.

He gazed at the scene before him. There was laughter in the Amari house for the first time in years and it brought happy tears to his eyes. He turned his back to them so they wouldn’t see his moment of weakness.

 _‘No, not weakness’,_ He thought. He was struggling to be more open with his feelings. The last thing he wanted to do was teach Fareeha to bottle things up. He swore to raise her to know strength wasn’t how well she could keep her emotions below the surface. That wasn’t healthy and Reinhardt refused to raise a child that would have to recover from her childhood. No one deserved that.

“Hey, are you alright?” Fareeha quietly asked, gently tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face her.

“I hope you know how proud I am of you.” Reinhardt cleared the lump in his throat.

Fareeha smiled.

What a morning it was turning out to be.

* * *

Hana had fallen asleep after finishing her cake and Fareeha had carried her up to her room.

“I’ve got to get to school soon.” Fareeha groaned when she reappeared in the kitchen entrance, she began clearing her place at the table. She didn’t enjoy school much but she was determined to get to the military. Even if it meant taking pointless tests and memorizing useless facts.

 _‘The mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell’,_ She thought glumly. Fareeha loved learning but sometime during the last hundred years, school became more about passing than learning.

“I don’t like school.” Lena made a face. She hated the school at the orphanage for several reasons. Partly because they had no basic school supplies and because the teachers didn’t seem to give a damn whether the students learned or not. It was just a paycheck to them. But she hated school because of the way the teachers and the other kids made fun of her. She picked at the remainder of the eggs on her plate, the memory pushing her appetite away.

“School is very important, _liebling,_ ” Reinhardt stood from his seat at the head of the table and walked by Lena, ruffling her hair. “It will open many doors.”

“I know about loads of people just dropped out or who didn’t go to school at all,” Winston mumbled. He had long since cleared his plate but decided to sit and enjoy the others’ company.

Lena had bits of egg yolk on her face and in her hair somehow, which made Fareeha laugh, “I hope Lena stays in school so they teach her how to get her food in her mouth instead of her hair.”

“What?” Lena reached up to brush her hair back but her fingers had trouble making it through successfully with all the dried yolk. She smiled, “I guess I could use a shower then?”

“Yeah. I’ll just use the guest bathroom to get ready.” Fareeha started up the stairs. Lena began washing her plate and the baking pan the others had left for her.

Reinhardt had gone over the house rules with them. He wanted them to learn discipline and self-sufficiency. Bedtime was at 8:30. 9 on weekend nights. Every Sunday was going to be laundry day and everyone was to rotate laundry duty. One person was going to wash while another folded. Everyone was going to wash their own plate and at least one cooking utensil. Reinhardt decided to teach Winston how to cook first since he was older than Lena and Hana. He was going to wait until they were at least 13 to teach them. For now, these were the only rules he could think of. Reinhardt didn’t want to keep a death grip on them. From what he learned, a lack of freedom always leads to more trouble than anything. He didn’t need a child-led revolt in his house. The image of little Hana waving a red flag and burning the house down made Reinhardt chuckle.

“Where does Fareeha go to school?” Winston piped up, pulling Reinhardt out of his thoughts.

“There’s a private school not far from here. Her mother enrolled her there because of the great STEM programs they have.” Reinhardt sat back down. He had to go job hunting and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hadn’t had a boss since Ana was in command of the Strike Team during the crisis. He loved Ana to death but he didn’t enjoy someone making calls for him.

“Do we have to go to school?” Lena asked solemnly.

Reinhardt chuckled, “Yes, little one. I will equip you with the tools you need to change the world. I know you have it in you.”

“But school.” Lena sighed.

“Why don’t you like school?” Reinhardt asked.

“I can never sit still for long enough and I never finish my work as fast as the others. I do try though! Really hard. But the teachers don’t ever seem to believe me when I tell them that.” Lena leaned against the countertop.

“I knew a soldier once. Brilliant boy. Always bouncing his leg, clicking his pen. Anything. Always on the move. No one could break that out of him. One day, they sent him to the psychiatrist on base. He had something called Attention Deficit/Hyperactive Disorder. ADHD for short.”

“Do you think I have that?” Lena asked.

Winston nodded, “Probably. It would make sense. You always seem to have endless energy. Like you’re on a motor or something.”

“It’s not a bad thing, little one.” Reinhardt stood and walked to Lena. He knelt in front of her, although she was still below eye level to him. “We will get you help and medicine. Then you can function at your full potential.”

“But will I still be me?” Lena looked worried.

Reinhardt nodded. “Think of it like this, Winston has his glasses so he can see. Some people have prosthetic arms to make up for the limb they lost. You will have medication that will help you focus and finish things. It won’t take away from who you are. On the contrary, it will help you accomplish everything you are meant to accomplish.”

“I suppose that would be nice for a change.” Lena shrugged, feeling a bit more at ease now that she had a clue as to what she was afflicted with.

“Come,” Reinhardt stood and beckoned Winston and Lena to follow, “We must wave Fareeha off to school.”

“When do we start?” Winston asked, anxiety building in his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to all the looks he was going to get. People always did a double take when they saw him on the street.

Reinhardt didn’t have documents for the kids, but he did know someone who could help him out. Someone from his old life at Overwatch. No one had ever met them in person. In fact, he wasn’t even sure how they managed to make themselves known to the team. They simply appeared one day and never left. He chewed the inside of his cheek, “I have to take care of some things first but hopefully, you’ll be in school as soon as possible.”

Fareeha barreled down the stairs, backpack slung over her shoulder. “I’m late! I’m late! I’m late!”

A blur of blue and beige and she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

“Well then,” Winston sat on his haunches, “She was wearing a uniform, right? That means we have to wear them to school, too?”

“Ah yes,” Reinhardt locked the door, jiggling the handle to make sure it was secure, “They’re rather nice uniforms. When I was a boy, I had to wear this hideous barf green uniform. You children are very lucky.”

A yawn from the top of the stairs pulled their attention away from Reinhardt’s story.

“Hey Han. You’re awake finally.” Winston called up.

“It was loud and the windows were shaking.” Hana rubbed at the sleepiness in her eye.

“Ah yes, Fareeha just left,” Reinhardt chuckled, “That girl is always fashionably late.”

“Where did she go?” Hana asked, slowly making her way down the stairs.

“School.” Winston and Lena both replied simultaneously.

Hana seemed to perk up immediately, “I love school!” She ran down the rest of the steps giggling, “I love naptime and snack time!”

“We don’t get naptime anymore, Han.” Winston sighed. Naptime was his favorite too.

Hana looked disappointed. A fierce pout on her face

* * *

Reinhardt had made sure everyone was in bed before he pulled out his tablet. A sleek silver model issued to all Overwatch agents during their glory days. He rarely used it nowadays.

He pulled up the short list of contacts and read the list. His thumb hovered over Ana’s name. He shook his head and continued scrolling. He was on a mission.

Every agent had a picture next to their contact name. The people on base would joke about it being no different than a mugshot and it was something he couldn’t deny. His own picture made him look like a death row inmate instead of a crusader for justice.

His finger finally landed on the one he was looking for.

A nameless agent. No picture either. Just a default silhouette. Nothing except an email address and an account number. They had appeared on the roster quite suddenly one day. The best techs at Overwatch could find nothing on this person, if it even was a person. The only clue Overwatch had was that they were based somewhere in the Americas. The signal bounced between continents. Any attempts to remove them always resulted in their systems crashing for weeks at a time. They figured it was best to just keep them in the system they couldn’t access any classified files.

Or at least that was the theory.

It took a few years before agents began contacting the mysterious entity. It came to light that their specialty was forgeries, a talent many had put to use during shadier Overwatch operations. At a price, of course. Reinhardt never thought much about the whole ordeal. He knew better than to bad mouth someone that could potentially be useful to him later in life.

An hour and 900,000 euros later, things were falling into place with the children’s new documents. He had managed to haggle a discount, but he knew money was going to be tight for some months. The pension he received from Overwatch was nothing to frown at, but 3 new kids were going to take a toll on his finances.

 **Agent:** Expect a package in a week. Thank you for your business, Mr. Wilhelm.

It always unnerved Reinhardt, the way this person knew all their names and everything in their files. He didn’t reply, it was unsettling enough to speak to them. He didn’t need any more stress in his life than they already had.

He made his way around the house again. It was well past midnight and the house was peacefully quiet. He poked his head into their rooms, making sure they were all sleeping safely and soundly. Lena with her arms sprawled out. Fareeha on her stomach, arms tucked under the pillow. Winston snoring softly on his side. Hana curled around a teddy bear much too big for her small body. They had gone shopping for school supplies and bed frames. Hana had a pink racecar. Winston opted for a rocket ship and Lena settled for Fareeha’s old bed. A hollowed-out missile. Reinhardt remembered the day Torbjörn disarmed and hollowed it out as a favor to Ana. The look on Fareeha’s tiny face was priceless. She was heartbroken when she first realized she had outgrown it. Fareeha couldn’t bear to part with it and so they kept it in the attic. She was happy to give it to Lena, happy that it was going to be in use again like her mother would have wanted.

He found his way back to his room. A bed, a television, and a nightstand was all he had. It was all he needed. A life in the military gave him habits that were hard to break.

Reinhardt lay in bed that night. Wondering how it was that his life was changing so quickly. In his heart, he knew it was for the best.

He just hoped he would be as good a father as he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikky Ekko- [Smile](https://youtu.be/xyf46QCZTlI)
> 
>  
> 
> [Drop me a line](http://hellaclassyfabandsassy.tumblr.com)


	3. Team

Months had passed since Fareeha rescued the kids from the streets. Reinhardt had enrolled them in the same private school as Fareeha. It was one of the few educational establishments that didn’t have gangs or drugs as a rampant problem. Well, they had the occasional controversy over students hopped up on mental enhancers and caffeine pills to pass tests. However, Reinhardt knew Lena and Winston had the brains and tenacity to avoid those pitfalls. Fareeha was as smart as she was strong. The older kids would look after Hana. Everything would be alright.

Unfortunately, the school thought it too late to enroll them into the grade they were meant to be in.

_“They could still test out and move up a grade if you would like.”_

That’s what the receptionist said, but it was stressful enough for him not knowing if it was too much too soon and if perhaps they weren’t even at the level they were supposed to be at academically. He knew they were smart kids, surviving on the streets takes more intelligence than writing papers does. But he knew how unforgiving academia could be with their endless piles of homework and projects. Extracurricular not included.

He gave them the summer to prepare mentally for school. He sat them down and with Fareeha’s help managed to catch them up with all the material they missed while they were homeless. Winston had a knack for the sciences. Lena had trouble sitting still and keeping the correct answer to herself until after the question was answered. He was impressed with the speed of her thought process but he doubted the teachers would be as enthusiastic about it as he was. He went to get her medication prescription shortly after. Hana had great problem-solving skills and excelled in reading and writing. Something he knew would come in handy at some point.

It was the first day of school.

Reinhardt looked at his masterpiece and grunted in approval. On each plate, there was a smiley face made of eggs and bacon. Fareeha swore she was too old for the smiley to make her laugh but everyone knew she loved it. Secretly. Reinhardt hung his bedazzled apron on a hook, smiling once more at the memory.

\--

_Never in his life did he imagine he would be tied down by a menial job. He hated when his boss yelled at him and it killed him to not be able to stand up for himself. But every time he looked at the pictures of his kids on his wall, it made staying quite a bit easier. It was well past 9:15 a.m. He was extremely late for his day job and as much as he hated it, it paid the bills._

_At first, he was going to ask Fareeha to make breakfast for everyone, but he loved cooking for them. He found happiness in the smiles on their faces when they saw the dinosaur shaped pieces of toast and the smiley faces made of bacon and eggs. He always made sure to pour them glasses of orange juice. Except for Hana. They found out the hard way that she was lactose intolerant. That trip to the mall was less than pleasant._

_He hadn’t told them it was his birthday. He hadn’t celebrated since Ana passed. Birthdays didn’t feel quite as happy without her screeching birthday songs at the top of her lungs for him. She sang beautifully when she wanted to, but her off-key singing always pulled a mighty, earth-shaking laughter from him a lot better._

_He nearly tripped down the stairs he rushed down so quickly. But the near accident gave him pause, and that’s when he heard it._

_Their giggling. He felt a smile spread onto his face._

_“What could possibly be at the bottom of these stairs?” He asked. Someone, perhaps Lena shushed them to try and quiet the giggling but even she couldn’t contain her excitement. When he finally made his way down the stairs, he saw them all huddled around a small bag with the designs drawn on. He assumed it was Hana who did it._

_“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” They yelled and tackled him with hugs. He laughed and felt his heart warm up with feelings of happiness and contentment._

_“How did you know, you rascals?!”_

_Winston pushed up his glasses, “I went to get the mail and they sent you a birthday discount for the yogurt shop down the street.”_

_Hana piped in, “We got you this thing but I can’t tell you what it is because Fareeha said it would ruin the surprise.” She glanced at Fareeha accusingly, who simply shrugged. She gave Hana the bag and gave her a gentle push forward. Hana gave the bag to Reinhardt. “It’s from all of us.”_

_He reached a massive hand into the tiny bag and pulled out a folded black cloth. He tucked the bag under his arm and shook the cloth, watching as it tumbled down. It was a black cooking apron, shining and sparkling with pink and white rhinestones. Hana’s handiwork, for sure. The words “Kiss the Chef” were outlined in hot pink glitter and a lipstick kiss was carefully drawn on in white sparkling glitter. At the bottom, there was a stick figure family. All their names were written by their designated figure. Reinhardt was nearly twice everyone’s size. He began to feel a lump in his throat._

_He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He missed that, he missed having a family and he hadn’t realized exactly how much until just then._

_He knelt and pulled them all into a massive bear hug and he cried. Lena panicked and quickly began to ramble, “Hey if you don’t like it we can go out and get something different! We don’t mind and Fareeha can drive us! Right, Faree-“_

_“No, no! I love it! This is one of the best gifts I have gotten.” He wiped his tears with his tie, “I love you, my little ones.” Reinhardt carefully put on his new apron and made his way to the kitchen._

_He called off work that day, enjoying the rest of his birthday with his little family._

_\--_

Reinhardt sighed over his eggs. He did miss his days of action and adventure. But being with his kids made him feel a different kind of fulfillment that was just as good as dishing out justice.

He set the table, wondering how the kids upstairs were dealing with having their first day of school and their first day away from home. Away from where he knew them to be safe and sound. It seemed they weren’t the only ones with first day jitters.

* * *

Winston stared at the uniform hanging on the back of his door. He felt butterflies tumbling around in his abdomen. His nerves were beginning to get the better of him. Winston wasn’t ready to face the stares and whispers sent his way. And he certainly wasn’t ready for the bullies. Bad enough he was the runt of his band. Winston drummed his fingers on his bed before suddenly slamming his hand down.

He realized there was no use delaying the inevitable.

He got up from his bed and made his way across his room, the plush carpet feeling fantastic under his feet. Winston stood before the uniform. He reached out and ran his hand down the fabric of the royal blue blazer. It wasn’t soft, much to his disappointment. Uniforms reminded him of the space suit he wore when he was younger. Winston didn’t know what the experiments were for exactly. He didn’t remember much except his last moments on the moon, when a man in a lab coat put him in an escape pod, leaving his glasses with baby Winston and then nothing. He had dreams about it sometimes and it would make him wake up with a racing heart and tears in his eyes. No one on Earth knew exactly what happened on the moon. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

After the war ended, the science department he was taken to after he was found was defunded and shut down. A mistake in the paperwork marked him down as a human child and he ended up at an orphanage where a headstrong British girl stood up for him against kids that were bigger than them both. He was a couple of years older than Lena but she protected him like he was her little brother. He remembered Hana’s round eyes looking up at him in wonder before sharing their already small meal with him. Hana was brave beyond her years and never once did she cower in fear from him as he had seen many people much older than her do. It was devastating for him to lose his third home when the orphanage shut down, even if it was miserable. It still counted as a place for him to call his own. He was hesitant when Fareeha took them into her house. He hadn’t gotten completely comfortable, the fear of losing this home as well lingered on his mind.

He began to get ready. His oxford shirt fit perfectly, although, after putting on his blazer, he got a bit hot. His fur added an extra layer of insulation which he and Reinhardt forgot to account for. He groaned, hoping he didn’t sweat too much during the day. Even he couldn’t stand the smell. His pants weren’t too much of a problem. They were normal khakis except for the fact that the waist was elastic, much like that of his sweatpants. After struggling with the blue tie for some time, Winston looked into the mirror. Reinhardt had his uniform tailored especially to his body shape to avoid any discomfort. Thankfully the school wasn’t going to make him wear shoes. Forcing his feet into such tiny spaces was his least favorite thing to do. Winston looked at himself and nodded in approval. His tie was a bit sloppy but he would ask Reinhardt or Fareeha to teach him how to tie it properly at breakfast.

He was going to prove he wasn’t just some monkey in a suit. He was a scientist and a thinker. And he was going to show people he was just as good as they were.

* * *

Lena sighed into the mirror, readjusting her tie for what seemed like the millionth time. Reinhardt was so excited the night he came home with the enrollment papers. They had successfully tested out and skipped into the grade that their respective age group was meant to be in. She stopped for a second and looked at her reflection. She had gained weight since coming under Reinhardt’s care. She didn’t look like a bag of bones anymore but her hair still liked to stick up in eleven different directions. She had gone to get a haircut the week before school began. She didn’t like the feeling of her hair poking at the back of her neck and opted for a shorter pixie cut. She wasn’t sure she liked it quite yet. She had a small cowlick at the back of her head that refused to stay down no matter how much gel she slathered on. The rest of her hair cooperated for the most part. She managed to tame it down into a side part, her bangs just barely brushing against her eyebrows. It tickled and she made note to style her hair a bit differently next time.

“Bollocks.” Lena mumbled and yanked off her tie. She couldn’t keep her hands from shaking long enough to successfully tie it like the student handbook asked. Even with little pictures that gave step by step directions, she struggled. It was frustrating to say the least. She hadn’t slept much the night before, her anxiety getting the better of her. Lena feared she wouldn’t be good enough to be at such a fancy school. The instructors at the orphanage always complained and traded her off to each other, commenting on what a problem child she was. She was full of energy and there were times when she couldn’t sit still for anything in the world. Sometimes it was a good thing, like when playing tag. Winston couldn’t catch her. No one could. But there were other times that she really needed to be still and despite all her efforts, she couldn’t stop. It annoyed the adults in her life. Everyone except Reinhardt, who took the time and patience to see her behavior for what it was. Four little letters and a prescription later, Lena could sit and focus.

She sighed. Her legs folded beneath her and she sat cross-legged on the floor. Tears blurred her vision and she began to cry quietly. Life was changing for the better but she still felt afraid. Fear of the unknown, of losing her family, of being as bad as the people in the orphanage said she was. Teardrops fell onto her new pants, darkening the material where they landed. She sniffled and wiped her snot with the back of her hand.

Lena felt silly, crying in her room like she was. But Reinhardt told her crying was okay. Feelings were okay. She repeated his words in her head.

_“It is all right to cry every once in a while, liebling. What is important and what makes you truly strong, is getting up after you do.”_

And she did just that. She wiped her eyes and nose once more before standing. There was a newfound determination in her eyes. With steady hands, she looped the tie around her neck and began to try again.

Just like Reinhardt told her to do. Had she told him about the mini-meltdown, he would have been proud. Alas, she never did.

* * *

Birds chirped outside of her window happily. The cloudy, cold day did nothing to stop them from singing their jubilant tunes. The alarm sounded like it was blasting beside her head. If looks could kill, Hana’s alarm clock would be nothing more than a pile of singed metal, wires, and bolts. She growled and kicked her covers off. The flames of anger kept her tiny body warm as she made her way across her room and slammed her small hand onto the device, effectively shutting it off.

She stretched her tiny arms far above her head. School was something she wasn’t looking forward to. Hana wished she could stay in bed all day sleeping and drawing on the walls in her room. Maybe Fareeha would stay home with her and they could play tag all day.

There was a knock at her door and she bolted to her bed, diving under the covers just as the door creaked open.

“Hana,” Fareeha’s voice called out, “Hana, it’s time for school.”

 _Maybe if I pretend I’m asleep she’ll leave me alone,_ Hana thought as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“I know you’re awake, Han. You’re not farting like normal.” Fareeha said.

“I do not fart!” Hana sat up, pouting, and immediately regretted it. It was a trap and she walked right into it.

“Good morning, Grumps.” Fareeha smiled as she sat on Hana’s bed. She was already dressed and groomed for her first day of her final year. She ruffled Hana’s already tangled mess of hair. “It’s time to get ready for school. Your first day.”

Hana frowned, “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t think any of us do but we have to so Reinhardt doesn’t get in trouble.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t” Hana looked up at her hopefully. School was to be avoided at all costs.

Fareeha chuckled and stood from the bed, pulling Hana along with her, “It doesn’t work like that I’m afraid.”

Hana frowned again. She followed Fareeha to the bathroom across from her room. There was a step stool ready for her in front of the sink. This was Hana and Lena’s bathroom. They could tell by the tiny puddles of water that Lena had already been here. She climbed onto the stepstool, waiting for instruction.

“Brush your teeth I’ll go get your uniform.” Fareeha stepped out into the hall, leaving Hana alone.

IT was the worst thing she could have done. The mention of her uniform brought a new feeling over Hana.

Anxiety.

_What if the others are mean? What if the teachers are mean? What if the food is nasty?_

Several what ifs raced through Hana’s mind. And by the time Fareeha returned, she was nearly paralyzed with fear.

“Hana, I thought we agreed you were going to brush your teeth,” Fareeha said in a firm tone. She hung Hana’s uniform on the door knob and noticed how quiet she was being. “Are you okay, Han?”

Hana shook her head.

“What’s wrong?” Fareeha kneeled. She used the gentlest tone she could with her.

“What if people are mean to me?” Hana asked, her lower lip quivering.

Fareeha pulled Hana in for a tight hug. She kissed Hana’s head and thought for a minute before speaking.

“Hana, you are smart, brave and strong. Stronger than any of those ugly, rat-faced children that try to bother you. Perhaps you are small and maybe they will try to take advantage of that but remember, you have something they don’t.”

“Like what?”

“Like me for a sister.” Fareeha smiled and booped Hana on the nose. The gesture made Hana smile. “Now, brush your teeth. We are going to be late for school if we don’t hurry.” Fareeha stood and Helped Hana into her uniform which was oddly adorable with how small everything was. The clip-on tie alone was about as long as her forearm and if that wasn’t adorable, she didn’t know what was.

* * *

Fareeha looked out of the grimy window on the bus, watching the streets and buildings blur together. Her stomach was all in knots but she willed herself to keep a mask of indifference. She was almost through with high school and she couldn’t wait to finish out her year. Once Fareeha graduated, she had been planning to march straight to the recruitment office. Joining the military was her way of rebelling but now it was her way of honoring her mother. Protecting people seemed to be a good way to live her life. There was still anger and resentment towards her mother but with her new family, she was slowly beginning to forgive. It helped to have Reinhardt at home whenever the rage or melancholy or both hit. Talking about it helped. Her thoughts were interrupted by the bickering across the aisle.

“Lena, stop bouncing your leg so much, you’re going to give me rug burn on my leg.” Winston huffed.

“Can you get rug burn, big guy? I mean you have fur, wouldn’t that like, I dunno, protect you from things like that?” Lena asked, leg still bouncing fast enough to power a small city.

Winston sighed, “I don’t know and I don’t want to find out.”

Lena stopped bouncing her leg and she sat still for a moment. But her anxiety was pushing her hyperactivity into an all-time high and she began drumming her fingers against her thigh. Her foot also started to move erratically from side to side. Winston sighed again, accepting that no matter what he did, Lena’s nerves were going to make her ticks come out.

Hana was fast asleep, her head in Fareeha’s lap and legs stretched out across the seat. She was small enough to fit.

London rarely got sunny days. She took it as a sign of good luck the clouds had cleared up and the sun came out. She loved seeing the city react to the pleasant change.

The morning brought a sort of unexpected chaos from Reinhardt. He ran around the house making sure everyone had everything they needed. He took pictures of everything, saying he wanted to document a huge milestone.

Fareeha had made a comment on the fact that she didn’t remember Reinhardt making such a big deal about her first day of school.

Almost at the speed of light, Reinhardt yanked out his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a picture of a young Fareeha in a flower spotted dress with a cute little backpack on and a bob cut.

Fareeha screeched and demanded the picture be destroyed.

 _“Nein! You have a poster of me in your room, why can’t I have a picture of you kids in my wallet?”_ He had replied.

A fair point, but Fareeha didn’t like it at all.

The bus arrived too soon for her taste. She wasn’t ready to start the beginning of the end, regardless of her drive to follow in her mother’s footsteps. The end of school would mark an end to a chapter in her life and the thought frightened her and excited her.

Lena bounded off the rumbling vehicle, unable to contain her excitement. “Woah! This place is huge!” Hana’s eyes were wide in wonder and Winston took in his surroundings with mixed interest and wariness. There was a steadily growing number of students gathering at the front of the school. Each from a different age group and grade level. It was thanks to Fareeha’s tall stature that she could spot a school official through the crowd of people.

There was an omnic staff member trying to divide kids into age groups but no one was really paying them any mind.

She gently guided Hana to where the younger kids were lined up. Hana gave her one last look before turning, resolve in her eyes. Fareeha felt a swell of pride. Hana was a fighter and she was tougher than most her age. She hoped that tenacity wouldn’t be lost as Hana grew older. It would be a shame to see such a lion-hearted person fall.

Fareeha looked up at the glass building before her. It gleamed proudly in the sun and seemed to stretch into the sky. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye. She squinted and lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Something glided past the building, the glass perfectly reflecting it. Fareeha’s eyes widened in realization. A falcon zipped past the structure, flying off high into the sky. She briefly wondered if it wasn’t her mother, telling her it was all going to be all right.

Hope blossomed in her chest as she watched the others hurry off into their respective groups. This year would be her year.

Fareeha entered her first class with her head held high.

* * *

The excitement of school was squashed the minute Lena entered her first class. it got worse with every passing period and by the time she got to her history of engineering class, she was bored out of her mind.

Lena had tuned out the teacher for most of his lecture. He had said his name at the beginning of class but Lena didn't catch it. It was Torb-something. She decided to nickname the professor Torby until she figured out his real name. History, in general, was never her strongest subject. It’s not that she didn’t care about it. She knew how actions had a domino effect, Reinhardt had told her as much, but it just didn’t captivate her. Lena could cry from boredom, especially now. History was boring enough but the history of engineering seemed to be a new level of torture made just for her. She sighed and looked out the window. People looked like ants from where she was. Lena sighed again and was about to put her feet up on the empty chair next to her when the door suddenly swung open. Heads turned towards the entrance as a man in a suit and sunglasses crossed the threshold. He looked around the room before raising his wrist to his mouth.

“ _Clair_ ”, he said as he held the door open. Lena wondered if he had a speech impediment before realizing he was speaking French. Another suited man entered the room and stood by the entrance, hands clasped in front of him. Lena was about to lose interest when she saw third, smaller person enter the room. Whispers erupted and people stood to get a better view of whoever walked in. Lena craned her neck but only caught a glimpse of blue before an especially large head blocked her view. The pair went to the front where the teacher’s desk was. The room quieted down but it was still hard to hear what was being said. Lena tried to look at who it was but her view was once again blocked, this time by the guard.

 _Probably a filthy rich brat_ , Lena thought. She shrugged and put her head down on her desk, not caring if it wrinkled her uniform.

_I’ll mind my business. Now’s a time as good as any to nap._

“Oxton!”

Lena’s head shot up. Torby’s gruff voice startled her.

“I- uh. Here! I’m right here” She stuttered, blushed a deep red.

Torby pointed to her and she felt panic creeping up her chest. Gluing her eyes to her desk seemed like a smart move.

Lena heard the soft clicking of shoes advancing towards her but didn’t dare look up. The chair next to her barely made a sound as it was pulled out.

“ _Mademoiselle_.”

Lena assumed it was the guard.

“ _Merci_.” A girl’s voice. Soft and delicate.

It was enough to get Lena to look up again. She felt her jaw drop the second she saw honey brown eyes looking into her own. Porcelain skin was framed by long, raven locks that tumbled down the girl’s shoulders. In that moment, Lena Oxton could have sworn her heart stopped.

Lena blinked a few times before clearing her throat. She averted her eyes and glued them to the board at the front of the class.

“Now, does anyone have any questions for me?” The professor asked.

The class was dead silent for a moment. a student broke the silence.

“Mr. Lindholm, if you were the mechanic and head engineer of Overwatch, why are you in a _history_ class?”

Lena’s interest was piqued. She and Winston had been trying to collect all of the promo comics Overwatch had made during its glory days. So far, they had found Reinhardt’s, Jesse McCree’s, and Ana Amari’s. Winston was hesitant to tell Fareeha when the found it. They still hadn’t told her and they were planning to keep it that way.

Now she had another agent to look for. Her excitement was through the roof and she began swinging her feet. She was too short to reach the ground making the action easier. Lena was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the girl beside her beginning to huff in annoyance.

Torbjörn sighed, pursing his lips.

“When they disbanded my team after the war, they outlawed agents finding work in what they specialized in. For me, that would be engineering and mechanics. Reinhardt Wilhelm can never be in the military again. They gave him an honorable discharge. The same would be true for Ana Amari if she were still alive. It was one of the conditions placed by the omnics when they surrendered.” Torbjörn shrugged. It felt like there was more to the story. But it was all he was willing to say. “Alright, if there are no more questions, everyone please take out a sheet of paper and a pencil.”

Lena began digging through her bag. She pulled out a piece of paper and then opened a front pocket, only to find it empty. Panic set in.

 _Bollocks! I left my pens at home!_ Lena looked around nervously. She didn’t want to ask the girl next to her for a pencil but she also didn’t want to draw attention to herself by getting up to ask a classmate.

Her leg was bouncing at twice the speed now.

She took a deep breath and turned to face the girl, who was already scowling at her.

“Oi, you got a spare pen on you? I forgot mine at hom-“

“You should have come prepared then.” The girl spat, her French accent thick.

Lena felt her blood begin to boil. She began counting backward from 20 but her anger was making her forget what number came after 17. “Listen, mate. It was a question. No need to be rude.”

“Is there a problem?” The professor asked from the front of the room. Lena watched in horror as every head turned their way.

“N-No, sir. I was just asking for a pen to write with.” Lena felt her face heat up.

The professor looked at the girl beside her expectantly, “Well?”

She scowled before begrudgingly handing Lena a pen. The professor nodded and resumed giving instructions.

Lena mumbled out a quiet word of thanks.

“Keep it.” The other girl hissed.

“What’s your deal?” Lena was getting fed up with her rudeness. The girl glared at Lena, “My problem is how annoying you tapping your foot like you are some demented rabbi-“

“Ladies are we going to have an issue with the seating arrangement?” Mr. Lindolm’s attention was back on them and Lena wanted nothing more than to sink deep into her chair.

 _“Non, Monsieur_ Torbjörn _._ My sincerest apologies.” The girl replied.

 _Ohhh, that’s his name._ Lena felt the lightbulb in her head flicker on.

Torbjörn sighed and rubbed his brow with his thumb and index finger. “Miss Oxton and Miss Guillard, both of you see me after class. This bickering simply will not do.”

Lena opened her mouth to protest but the glare she got from the Guillard girl wiped any thought from her mind.

* * *

Hana Song wasn’t having a good day. She missed everyone. And she didn’t like the way the other kids smelled. The room smelled like feet and applesauce, her two least favorite things. People weren’t mean to her but they also weren’t talking to her. Hana wasn’t too sure which was worse. She couldn’t wait to go home and see everyone after school. Nap and snack time had come and gone a bit too quickly for her taste. Fortunately for her, it was time for art and Hana happily ran to get crayons and paper.

_Pink crayons are the best crayons._

Hana noticed everyone had already formed their little groups and the sight made her a bit sad. But she didn’t have the courage to join anyone and parked herself in the corner away from everyone. Laying on her stomach, she opened her crayon box and looked for her color. Hana wanted to throw a fit when she saw it was missing. She was just about to get up when she felt someone’s presence above her. She looked up to see a young boy gripping his box of crayons and paper. He seemed nervous. His tie was a bit crooked and there was a mysterious stain on his oxford shirt. He kept shifting his weight between feet and Hana looked at him expectantly.

“Hi. Can I color with you?” His voice was soft, timid.

Hana raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

He hung his head. “I don’t have anyone to color with.”

It made Hana feel a bit better that she wasn’t the only one having trouble making friends. “You talk funny.”

“So do you.” The boy replied with a bit of anger. His face contorted into a frown, feeling offended.

Hana frowned as well. She never really thought about how she talked. She thought everyone in her house sounded odd but it never occurred to her that she sounded funny to others. She pondered some more before speaking. “Can I have your pink crayon?”

The boy looked down at his crayon box. He had a pink one but noticed the green one missing. “Mhm. Can I have your green one?”

Hana looked down at hers and saw a green crayon poking out next to where the pink one would have gone. She nodded, “I guess”

He happily plopped down across from her, mimicking her position. They fell into a peaceful silence which was only broken by the sound of each other’s crayons scratching the paper they had. Both children thought it was nice.

“Are we friends now?” He asked.

Hana scrunched her nose. She wasn’t sure how new friendships were made. She only really talked to people at home. But she shrugged and nodded. “I think so.”

“Oh. Cool.”

They resumed coloring.

“Wait, what’s your name?” Hana asked.

He took a deep breath before responding “Lúcio Correia dos Santos. What’s your name?”

She giggled, “Hana Song. I like your name. It sounds cool”

Lúcio smiled, revealing a gap where his canine tooth should have been, “Yours too.”

“My tooth is missing too.” Hana showed him by pulling up her lip to show off her missing incisor.

They talked about teeth and how they lost them, their drawings long forgotten. They spoke about their countries and their families. Hana told him about her time living under a tarp with her family until another girl came along and took them to a huge house where a huge man lived. She told him about Reinhardt and Fareeha. Lena and Winston too. She told him about Reinhardt and how he made her speak Korean every day so she wouldn’t forget where she was from. She didn’t quite understand what it meant but she did it anyway because she enjoyed hearing him speak it back to her.

Lúcio told her about his family. His mother who worked her hands to the bone so he could go to a good school where he could learn and not worry about bad men taking him away. He told her about the big boom that made his father sleep forever and how sometimes he heard his mom crying in her room about it. He told her about the language he spoke at home because his mom didn’t have the opportunity to learn like he did. She had moved with her family when she was young but the explosions outside her window didn’t let her go to school like he could.

They both smiled despite it all. They talked about going to school and meeting each other and spending time with their families. Perhaps they were too young to understand all that went on in the world, but they were happy to have made a new friend.

The lunch bell rang and they began cleaning up.

Their class was still too little to eat with the big kids. They would have to eat lunch with their teacher. But Hana grabbed Lúcio’s hand and they ran to the teacher, both eager for lunch.

They both felt a bit better about having a friend to eat with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lorde- [Team](https://youtu.be/uMQpyuATqmM)


	4. Riptide

 Fareeha ran down the hall, her long legs helping her take long strides. Her side was starting to ache but she didn’t care, she was about to be late for her next class. Her last class had lasted a bit longer than it was meant to and neither the students nor the instructor noticed the time pass. It was the first day of school and despite the fact she had a late pass, she still didn’t want to be late to her next class.

The minute she received her excuse note, she bolted out of the room. Her next class was halfway across campus. Not that Fareeha would ever admit to playing such childish games, but playing tag with Lena and Winston really helped her get into shape.

 She narrowly missed crashing into people. Teachers and students alike gave her funny looks as she ran. A small part of her felt embarrassed but a bigger, stronger part wanted an education as well as a good working relationship with her professors. That part of her didn’t give a damn what people thought of her.

“Hey! No running!” An omnic teacher called out. She turned back, distracted. Unfortunately, someone else who was equally distracted with shuffling the papers in her arms, stepped directly into her path. Fareeha turned her head a fraction of a second too late and crashed into a blonde girl. The papers and the girl holding them went flying. Fareeha slipped on one of the papers and her legs flew out from underneath her, making her land on her back. She felt the wind get knocked out of her from the impact and she lay there like a fish out of water. Gasping and wheezing.

“ _Schisse! Mein Gott,_ are you okay? I am so, so sorry!”

Clear blue eyes looked at her through black-rimmed glasses with concern and suddenly, Fareeha wasn’t sure anymore if it was the fall that was taking her breath away. She could only nod in response. The girl helped her sit up. Fareeha was captivated by the long, shiny blonde locks that framed the girl’s face.

“Breathe with me. In,” They both took a breath in, although for Fareeha it was more of a controlled wheeze, “Out.”

They sat there going through the exercise, papers scattered around them. The halls were beginning to clear, no one really noticing the two girls on the ground. A few good Samaritans stopped to see if they were all right but were waved off by the blonde girl.

The halls were empty by the time Fareeha had regained her normal breathing patterns.

“There. All better?”

Fareeha nodded and began to fumble for the papers next to her. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her movements, “Yeah I’m all right, thank you. It was my fault I’m sorry.” She situated herself into a kneeling crouch to better reach for the scattered papers, hoping she didn’t look as awkward as she felt.

“Oh, no. It was me. My mother used to always tell me I have my head in the clouds.” She laughed breathlessly.

Fareeha’s heart sped up. She felt like there was a street race in her chest. She began to mumble something but the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth.

“Hm?”  Angela looked at Fareeha. It sort of snapped Fareeha out of her reverie

“No, nothing. Um, I’m Fareeha Amari.” She stood, papers in hand. She extended her other hand, a greeting, and an offer to help the girl to her feet.

The girl took her hand and stood. She seemed to be thinking of something. Fareeha felt nervous, she had seen that same look on the faces of nearly everyone she had met earlier in the day. She began to silently pray she wouldn’t hear the words she had been hearing all day. The whispers. Sneaking glances that weren’t at all discreet.

She almost let out a sigh, prepping herself to say the phrase that became a reflex after so many years of living in her mother’s shadow. Yes, she was in fact, _that_ Amari’s kid.

But instead, all she got was a smile and a firm handshake, “Angela Ziegler. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her hands weren’t exactly as soft as Fareeha expected them to be. They felt… rough almost, as if Angela had spent her days washing them repeatedly. There was something about her hands that stood out to Fareeha but she simply shrugged and let Angela’s hand go.

“Likewise,” Fareeha felt like a total dork for acting so formal and mature, but she wanted to match the cool and collected demeanor Angela had. “Where are you headed to?” She asked, handing Angela back her papers.

“Uhhh,” Angela shuffled through her documents until she found her schedule, “I think, advanced trigonometry. You?”

Fareeha pulled out her crumpled up schedule from the front pocket of her khakis. She smiled, “Yeah me too.”

“Let’s go then. We’re late.” Angela began walking towards the direction of the classroom and Fareeha followed.

“So where are you from?” Fareeha asked. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to strike up a half decent conversation. She was tense and a bit sweaty, screeching on the inside. Thankfully, Angela didn’t seem to notice her distress.

“Switzerland. And you?”

“Egypt. And Canada too I guess.” Fareeha shrugged, “Nowhere special.”

“I have never been to Egypt. Or Canada.” Angela replied. There were questions bubbling in her mouth but she lacked the courage to ask.

“I haven’t been to Switzerland or Canada either.” Fareeha smiled and they both missed the hallway where their class was.

“What’s Egypt like?”

Angela was aimlessly following Fareeha, who was following Angela. They were walking nowhere. They hardly noticed.

Fareeha blew out a big breath, chuckling and trying to find the words to describe one of her many homes. “It’s beautiful. Music. Food. Oh, the food. I love the figs. I mean, I love all the fruit. My mom used to call me a fruit bat. But the figs there are my favorite. It’s hot. Dry. It feels like your clothes are glued to your skin. But the people there. It’s amazing. It’s hard to describe.” Fareeha suddenly ached for her mother and her homeland. She had a home there in London with Reinhardt and the others but she still yearned for her country. Canada was never really her home. She had gone a couple of times to go see a father she barely remembered but those visits always ended in tears and disaster. Fareeha shook herself out of her head. She refused to lose her cool in front of her new friend. Her new attractive friend. “What’s Switzerland like?”

“The weather? A bit chilly. But the view? I remember the view being beautiful beyond words. Deep blue lakes, mountains, meadows. There’s still much natural beauty in Switzerland. I remember everything followed a schedule. Nothing ever really runs late. It was a hard thing to get accustomed to when we moved here to London. We moved here when I was still a young girl. I miss it sometimes.”

“You haven’t gone back?” Fareeha asked, genuinely interested. All the anxiety she felt had melted away. It was easy talking to Angela. Effortless.

But Angela’s eyes seemed to dim a little as if remembering something sad. Painful. “No. Not since I left.”

Fareeha wanted to ask more but decided against it. They had just met and it was too early to ask about tragic backstories, although the curiosity was nibbling away at her just a little.

“Hey, I think we missed our class.” Angela changed the subject. Fareeha felt relieved and panicked at the same time. Relief that she was right to keep her question to herself but panicked because they were already so late to class.

“Oh shit, are you serious?!” Fareeha’s eyes darted around finally taking in her surroundings. They had stopped in front of glass double doors that led to an outdoor courtyard. Fareeha spotted a map of the school posted on the wall beside the exit. Angela saw it too and they both walked over to it, looking for where they made a wrong turn. Fareeha looked at her from the corner of her eye, finding the way Angela crinkled her nose before pushing up her glasses with her index finger endearing. She turned her attention back to the map on the wall.

“Damn. You’re right,” Fareeha murmured, “This says we’re over by Courtyard A and our class is like. All the way on the other side. Wow, how far did we walk?”

Angela giggled and Fareeha’s heart fluttered at the sound.

“Far enough. I think you might as well tell me more about Egypt and Canada.” There was a mischievous glint in Angela’s eye that made Fareeha’s stomach tumble.

“What about class?” Fareeha asked. She wanted to kick herself for being such a nerd.

Angela pushed her glasses up and rearranged the papers in her arms, “We have already missed about half the class and by the time we make it back, it’ll be almost over.”

“So, we might as well hang out?” Fareeha asked.

“Now you’re getting it.” Angela smiled and walked out the double doors that lead to the courtyard. A single tree stood proudly at the center. Lush green grass waved gently in the light breeze. Metal tables with umbrellas surrounded the tree. Angela went straight past them and sat under the tree. Its broad trunk provided more than enough space for both girls to lean on it side by side. Fareeha’s palms began to sweat at the thought of being that close to such a pretty girl.

 _So, so gay..._ She thought to herself.

She followed Angela outside and plopped down beside her. The grass poked at her uncomfortably. Fareeha was sure she was sitting on some sharp pebbles, but she refused to rearrange herself. She wanted to look cool for Angela.

“So, tell me more about you.” Angela stacked her papers in a neat pile beside her, placing her glasses atop them to act as a paperweight.

Fareeha blew out a breath, suddenly forgetting everything about herself. “What do you want to know?”

Angela thought for a while. The silence comfortable, “Do you only speak English?”

“No. I speak Arabic. I’m picking up some Korean at home but I’m not fluent yet. How about you?”

Angela began to chew on her thumbnail. She seemed to be thinking about how to respond. Fareeha thought it strange since it was such a simple question.

“I speak also German, French, and Mandarin.” She finally responded.

“Wow.” Fareeha was impressed. “That’s a lot. Wait how old are you?”

Angela giggled, “You know you aren’t supposed to ask a lady those types of questions.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just think it’s cool that you’re young and can speak so much. So many languages. You know?” Fareeha felt her ears redden. She hated when she rambled. She picked at the grass beside her, avoiding Angela’s eyes.

“I’m 19. I just turned a few weeks ago.” Angela smiled at Fareeha for what felt like the thousandth time. She found the girl charming and sweet.

“Oh. I’m still 17. I’m only…” Fareeha began to count in her head, “10 days away from being 18.”

“Happy early birthday then. How will you celebrate?”

Fareeha laughed. Angela decided she liked the sound. Sonorous and strong.

“I plan on getting a tattoo.” She answered simply.

“What of?”

Fareeha looked at Angela. It was her stomach’s turn to take a tumble. Dark eyes held a sly, gleeful glint.

“You’ll see.”

Angela gasped, exaggerating her reaction, “Why, it is your birthday! And yet I am the one being surprised?”

A wide grin stretched across Fareeha’s face. Angela gazed a little too long at the sparkling white teeth that stood out beautifully against Fareeha’s rich, golden brown skin. Fareeha’s light voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Don’t worry, you aren’t the only one getting a surprise. Reinhardt’s probably gonna kill me when I get it.” She laughed again.

Angela cocked her head, “Who is Reinhardt?”

“Oh, he’s the man that takes care of me and my, uh, siblings.” Fareeha nodded. She liked the sound of that. Siblings.

“You have siblings?” Angela asked.

“Well, they aren’t blood-related. I sort of found them on the street on my way to the store this one day and we took them in. So, they’re family now. Before that, it was just me and Reinhardt.” Something passed over Angela’s eyes. She opened her mouth, and for a moment, Fareeha feared what she might ask next.

But the question about her mother never came.

“So, what is the plan after you graduate?”

Fareeha let out a quiet sigh of relief, “I was going to the military but I think I might make a pit stop first.”

“How so?”

“I might go to college for Engineering or something. I don’t know. It feels like something I have to do. Sort of honoring a request.” Fareeha hoped Angela wouldn’t ask anymore. It was then that Fareeha wondered why she was sharing so much of herself with a stranger. A stranger. Angela was so easy to talk to, it was dangerous.

Fareeha decided a little danger here and there wouldn’t hurt anyone. Much.

“And when did you decide that?” Angela asked.

“This morning.” Fareeha chuckled.

They spent the rest of the period talking about plans and random little things about themselves. Angela wasn’t sure what she wanted to be yet.

The bell rang and they both stood, dusting off the grass from their pants and collecting their things. Fareeha was glad to get off the pebbles that were digging into her butt.

“Well, that was fun, no?” Angela smiled up at Fareeha who towered a few inches over her.

Fareeha nodded. “Yeah. I had fun. I think we should do this again. But without skipping class.”

Angela’s laugh echoed in the courtyard. A lovely sound. “Yes, since class is obviously very important to you, I think it best if we actually go next time.”

“Deal.”

* * *

Lena grumbled as she walked to the lunch room. The first day of class and she had already gotten into trouble because some snot-nosed snob decided today was the day she was going to ruin Lena’s life. Torb had assigned them a project, a way to get to know each other. After that, he made then shake hands and introduce themselves.

 _“_ _Amélie Guillard.”_

_“Lena Oxton.”_

They both had to do research on things the other liked. Lena had to research ballet and French history. Amélie had to delve into model planes and comics.

 _“You will not always like the people you work with, but you will learn to cooperate.”_ He had told them.

She got to the lunch room just in time to see Fareeha’s lanky body stumble through the lunch line, tripping over her own feet. Lena giggled, her bubbly laughter catching Fareeha’s attention. Lena ran over to where Fareeha was. A few students groaned when she cut into the line but no one said anything.

“I can’t believe you are the same one who kicked Roadie and that Rat’s arse.” Lena shook her head, smiling.

Fareeha blushed, trying her best to look offended, “I can still kick your butt, little girl.”

“Where’s Winston?” Lena craned her neck trying to scan the cafeteria.

“I don’t know, haven’t seen him. He’ll come though.” Fareeha ruffled Lena’s hair.

They gazed at the depressing and limited choices of school lunches. Mystery Meat Monday was always a hit. Stale burger buns and graying lettuce were piled onto their plates. Lena didn’t seem at all phased by the food, if it could even be called that. Fareeha sighed. She forgets sometimes the life they lived before. She looked at her food sadly as they made their way to a random table.

“Is Hana coming?” Lena asked as placed her tray on the table.

Fareeha shook her head. “The little kids eat with their class.”

“I’m not a little kid!”

They turned to see a tiny sweaty Hana pulling an equally tiny and sweaty boy behind her. He was out of breath but smiling.

“Han, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, we ran away.” Hana smiled and the gap in her teeth showed. She knew no one could be mad at her with that cute smile.

Lena laughed and hugged Hana.

“So, who is this gentleman?” Fareeha asked.

“Lúcio. He’s from Basil.” Hana smiled proudly. Lúcio seemed to curl into himself. Fareeha saw his painful shyness and immediately empathized.

Lena scratched the back of her head. “Basil? I’ve never heard of it.”

“She means the country of Brazil, not the spice,” Fareeha said. It seemed to confuse Lena even more.

“Brazil is a spice?”

Fareeha chuckled. “No, dork. Never mind,” Fareeha gestured to the table, a round one with 4 chairs around it, “Let’s sit.”

They chatted about nothing for twenty minutes before Winston finally showed up. Lena was enjoying her mystery meat when he slammed his things on the table. Hana and Lúcio looked up at him curiously.

“Sorry, I’m late guys.” Winston pushed his glasses up. He looked out of sorts, tie crooked and his shirt wrinkled. His blazer was more off than on. His face was gleaming in the fluorescent lighting. Fareeha’s eyes narrowed.

“You good, big guy?” Lena asked, a cheek full of food. She didn’t seem to notice his state of disarray, her food taking priority.

“Winston, why is your face wet?” Fareeha asked, crossing her arms. She felt a quiet rage begin to bubble in her chest. She felt like a volcano. She felt a bit lightheaded, the anger building to the point of eruption. She had a feeling she knew what happened, but she wanted to hear what he had to say before jumping to conclusions.

Winston wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Lena finally took notice of him, her chewing coming to a complete halt. “Winston, mate, come on.”

 Winston shook his head and pulled a chair up from the empty table next to them. He sat down without a word, his eyes never leaving the ground.

Fareeha took deep breaths, trying her hardest to contain what she felt. She asked again in a gentler voice.

Winston started talking, smiling. “I got lost and I ran here. That’s all.”

“Are you sure that’s all that happened?” Fareeha probed.

He nodded. Something felt off about the whole thing but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She felt he was lying. Her gut told her so. But she decided not to push it. People would always talk whenever they were ready to, or at least that’s what Reinhardt had taught her. But it was hard for her to sit back and do nothing when she suspected people were bullying Winston.

“Who’s Hana’s new friend?” He asked, changing the subject. Lena was the first to pipe up, “Oh, that’s Lúcio from Brazil.”

They jumped from topic to topic for the rest of lunch, Fareeha never felt completely satisfied with Winston’s answer. She let it go for the time being. The bell rang, which signaled a class change and everyone groaned. Hana and Lúcio looked sad to go back to their class.

“Cheer up, Han!” Lena chirped. “We’ll see each other again at home.”

“When?” She asked. Both she and Lúcio looked up at her with hope in their eyes.

“We only have 3 hours left and then we get to go home.”

“But that’s forever!” Hana whined.

“I’m hungry,” Lúcio mumbled.

“It’s not forever, it only feels like forever because school sucks,” Fareeha explained before turning to Lúcio, “Didn’t you guys have lunch?”

He nodded.

“You’re still hungry?” Winston asked him in surprise.

Lúcio nodded again.

Winston chuckled, “Wow, Lena, we might have someone with a bigger stomach than you, kid.”

“Impossible!” She exaggerated her gasp, smiling. Lúcio and Hana giggled at her theatrics. Fareeha smiled until she noticed they were among the last to leave the cafeteria.

“Alright kids,” Fareeha sighed, standing from her chair, “It’s time to go and, I don’t know, pretend to learn things.” Hana and Lúcio slid off their chairs sadly.

“I’ve learned some people are too poor to afford manners,” Lena mumbled. She had momentarily forgotten the morning incidents.

“What do you mean by that?” Winston asked, gathering his things. His face had dried, and his uniform looked better than it had at the beginning of lunch.

Lena shook her head, pushing her chair in under the table, “No nothing. I’ll tell you when we get home, yeah?”

“Cool,” Winston replied. He stood from his chair and copied Lena’s actions. Fareeha had been the first to stand. She was patting her pockets until she found the crumpled schedule she was looking for.

“I have gym next.” Fareeha sighed. She didn’t want to do any heavy exercising. “I’ll see everyone at home okay?” She waved and walked toward the school locker rooms. She walked down the winding halls of the school, her mind wandering until her thoughts landed on Angela. She found herself smiling, nearly missing the entrance to the girls’ locker room. When she opened the door, the smell of sweat immediately hit her and she regretted all her life choices.

She changed into the gym uniform, blue shorts and a white short sleeved shirt with the school name printed on the right breast pocket. The shorts had the name on the right. They were comfortable, but she felt exposed with her chicken legs displayed to the world. She was strong, but she wasn’t as muscular as she wanted to be. She sat down on a nearby bench by the door and began to tie her running shoes. Doubling knotting like her mother had taught her.

Fareeha sighed as she waited for the instructor to come along and take them out into the field. She had arrived early, but the room was already echoing with the steady influx of students rustling about.

“Fareeha?” Someone called her name and she quickly turned to see who it was. She tried her best to hide her blush upon seeing Angela’s smiling face looking at her from the doorway.

“A-Angela! Hey!” She smiled but couldn’t help but feel like a total loser, “What are you doing here?”

Angela laughed, “Well this is my class, silly bird.”

“Why am I a bird? Is it my chicken legs?” Fareeha tucked her legs to her chest and pulled her shirt over her knees. The sight made Angela laugh hard enough to start snorting. Fareeha began to join in on the laughter.

“You made me ugly laugh.” Angela playfully slapped Fareeha’s shoulder. She sat down on the bench by her, their shoulders touching.

Not that Fareeha was taking note of it, no, not at all. She cleared her throat, “I don’t think that was an ugly laugh. It was a nice one. you have a nice laugh, Angela.” Fareeha smiled.

Angela shook her head, a smile engraved on her face, “Do you know what we’re doing today?”

Fareeha shrugged, “I think just running today but I don’t really know.”

Angela nodded and stood, the sudden movement nearly knocking Fareeha off the bench, “I should change then. Class starts soon.”

Fareeha nodded and kept her eyes religiously glued to the ground while Angela stripped down and changed. She didn’t want Angela thinking she was oogling her just to be a creep.

“Alright! P.E class please follow me! If you haven’t changed out please do so before joining us on the basketball court!” The gym instructor called out. Fareeha dreaded it. she hadn’t even begun the workout and she was already anxious to get it over with.

“Are you ready?” Angela asked, completely clothed and ready to exercise. Fareeha felt like she had already done a round of cardio with the way her heart was pounding in her chest. She nodded and stood, following the rest of the students out onto the fields.

The clouds still hung overhead, not really threatening rain but dark enough to make Fareeha nervous about the chance of having to carry wet gym clothes.

“Wait, did he say basketball court?” Angela asked, cracking her knuckles with her thumb nervously.

Fareeha nodded. She wasn’t particularly coordinated, but she was tall enough that she could shoot hoops with ease. “Yeah, why?”

“I hate basketball.” Angela murmured.

“How come?”

“I always end up bouncing the ball on my toes instead of the pavement and it always rolls off into the distance.” She replied sadly.

Fareeha laughed, the image of Angela running after a ball amusing her just enough that she felt better about being less than coordinated. “I always trip over my feet.”

“So, this morning wasn’t entirely my fault?” Angela smirked up at her.

“Hey. You bumped into me so. It was totally your fault.”

Angela began to giggle, but the instructor began to speak and both girls paid attention. They ran a few laps around the court before they began practicing their dribbles. Angela, true to her word, bounced the ball a few times on her toes before Fareeha stepped in.

“Lean forward a little. You’re too straight.” She said.

Angela winked at her. “I’m not as straight as you think.” Fareeha’s mouth felt like cotton and her heart began its marathon through her stomach before settling into its rightful place in her chest.

“O-Okay. Just...” Fareeha trailed off and simply nodded, not trusting herself to say words in English. Or any other language for that matter.

Angela followed the tip Fareeha gave her, which solved her runaway ball issue.

They began shooting at the hoop, after about fifteen minutes. Fareeha shot effortlessly, her ball touching nothing but net as she scored the shot. A few impressed murmurs broke out from the class. The instructor seemed to take interest in her when he saw her form.

“Nice shot.” Angela said. Fareeha smiled and nudged her forward toward the hoop.

“It’s your turn.”

Angela stood before the hoop, feeling everyone’s gaze on her as she tried her best to mimic Fareeha’s starting position.

She threw the ball, her leg coming up behind and she watched as the ball soared through the air.

Completely over the hoop. She huffed in frustration. There was little she wasn’t good at, basketball being one of them. Her need to perfect things slowly began to take hold. She scowled as she made her way back to her spot next to Fareeha. “I suck.” She mumbled angrily.

“You do, but it’s nothing you can’t work on.” Fareeha offered an encouraging smile., “Either way, it’s just gym class. It’s not the Olympics.”

Angela frowned. The thought offered her little comfort.

Class was thankfully cut short. Fareeha was a little saddened, she enjoyed showing off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vance Joy- [Riptide](https://youtu.be/MsTWpbR_TVE)


	5. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed WidowTracer week. But i will eventually make it up to you sweet children. Be safe. Cash me on tumblr dot com. Feel free to hit me up. or fight me. Whichever. And this chapter is long. 3k long. I'll work up to 8k one day.
> 
> Two hyphens -- Is a memory start/end  
> 

Lena Oxton wasn’t a violent person. In truth, the only time she wasn’t totally passive was when her family was threatened. But something about the way the Guillard girl sneered at her gave her the primal urge to flip a table. It wasn’t like Lena hadn’t tried extending an olive branch, even though she had done nothing wrong. She had tried numerous times to befriend the girl but her attempts always proved to be fruitless.

She had told Reinhardt and Fareeha of her encounters with Amélie Guillard. Both had suggested she try and be her best self and win her confidence at the very least. Even if they didn’t get along, perhaps they could be civil with one another.

They both sat in uncomfortable silence. Torbjörn had yet to arrive, which was odd considering he was always waiting patiently by the board for all the students to arrive. The class was still. It had been nearly 15 minutes since the lesson was supposed to have started, however, they were still short one teacher.

“Have you started on the thing he’s making us do?” Lena asked, determined to be the bigger person like Reinhardt recommended she do. Amélie gave her a side eye look before rolling her eyes and shaking her head. The scoff from her made Lena’s blood begin to boil, but before she could say anything, the door swung open.

“Sorry I’m late, kiddos,” A man decked out in cowboy attire drawled, “I had to run and powder my nose.” Lena and half the class began to giggle. Amélie stayed quiet, staring straight ahead and unimpressed. It was Lena who rolled her eyes this time.

“I don’t care what you kids do, just let me nap and don’t kill each other.” He said, plopping down in the teacher’s chair, and putting his feet up on the desk. Lena could almost see a cartoonish cloud of dust fly up from his boots. It was then that it occurred to her that she had seen this man before.

Lena raised her hand slowly, “Sir?”

The man looked at her with one eyebrow raised. He jerked his head upwards. “What, kid?”

“What’s your name?”

He laughed loudly before throwing his head back and settling into his chair. “I am Jesse McCree. And I am about to take my afternoon nap.” He pulled his hat over his eyes and snuggled into his poncho. Before long, he was snoring. The class broke out into quiet murmurs.

Lena was holding in a squeal. She looked excitedly at Amélie. “Do you know who that is?” She asked barely above a whisper.

Amélie looked at her with equal parts boredom and disdain. It didn’t stop Lena from bouncing up and down in her chair and babbling about her comic book collection with Winston.

“…And he was an Overwatch agent before they got decommissioned. Ana Amari taught him how to shoot and I hear he can shoot a flea off a dog.” Lena happily chattered. Amélie sighed and reached her hand out to touch Lena’s forearm. The gesture silenced Lena immediately.

“ _Chérie?”_

Lena swallowed, unsure why she felt so funny suddenly. “Yeah?”

A cruel smile spread over Amélie’s doll-like features. Lena immediately wanted to kick herself for falling for the supposedly kind gesture.

“I don’t care.”

Lena huffed, yanking her arm from Amélie’s touch, ignoring the way her cold chuckle cut into her feelings. She stood, her chair scraping against the floor loudly enough to draw attention from the other students. The room went silent but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

“You’re a downright fucking tosser and you have no right to treat me the way you do,” Lena took a shaky breath before gritting her teeth. Amélie looked hurt and for a moment Lena was satisfied. It was a short-lived victory because she felt a jet stream of cold water hitting her face. She gasped in shock before turning to see Jesse McCree holding a small water gun in his hand.

“It’s my naptime.” He said. Amélie snickered before getting her own stream of water in her face. She looked incredulously at McCree before one of her bodyguards moved to disarm McCree. He flipped the man onto his back without so much as a sweat. Amélie hated the little bit of admiration she felt for Jesse McCree. Her guards were trained military men and yet he managed to throw one onto his back as if he was little more than a rag doll.

Jesse laughed humorlessly. He helped the guard to his feet, the man giving him a sharp glare as he did. “Class is dismissed. Y’all best run along now. We can try this again tomorrow.” Lena was well out the door with tears streaming down her cheeks.

For a brief moment, regret painted Amélie’s dainty features.

Weeks would pass before they spoke again.

* * *

They stood in the kitchen, Fareeha fiddling with her phone. She had been texting Angela nearly nonstop. Today was a very important day.

“So when is your guest arriving?” Reinhardt called from the kitchen. He had his oven mitts on, pulling a sheet of chocolate chip cookies out. They had ordered Chinese takeout but he still wanted to make some sort of impression on his guest. In truth, he loved showing off his baking skills.

Fareeha shrugged, acting nonchalant about the fact that she was going to have her crush over for dinner. In her mind, she was the epitome of calmness. But Reinhardt could see just how nervous and rabbit hearted she actually felt.

The doorbell rang and 3 bodies tumbled down the stairs. Fareeha tripped over herself to answer the door.  She barely made it to the kitchen entrance when she saw she was too late. Lena was the first one to the door, much to Fareeha’s chagrin. She watched in horror as Hana scrambled up Winston’s back to get a better look at the person on their stoop.

 _The one time I need them to act civil,_ She thought.

“Hello!” Lena smiled. Fareeha heard Angela’s light laughter.

“Hello, there! Is Fareeha home?” Angela asked and Fareeha felt giddy at the sound of her name coming from her mouth.

Lena nodded and waved Angela in. Hana and Winston shook Angela’s hand before leading her to the living room. Winston’s aluminum model cityscapes acted as décor. He had managed to build the Taj Majal as well as the Millenium Falcon. With Lena’s help of course. Hana had helped pick up most of her toys, stuffing them all into her closet for later use. 

Fareeha appeared in the doorway. She caught Angela's eye and they smiled at each other. Fareeha opened her mouth to say hello but Lena interrupted. "Say, you look familiar."

Angela's eyes changed fro a moment. Her demeanor changed, "I go to school with you and Fareeha."

Lena frowned, "No. I've seen you somewhere else but I can't remember where."

"Let's go eat yeah?" Fareeha cut in. She gave Angela a small wave and a big smile. she led the way to the dining room where copious amounts of takeout were already on the table. They sat around the dining room table, laughing at Lena and Reinhardt's terrible jokes.

"Hey Winston! Guess who was my substitute teacher today?"

Winston grunted in question.

"Jesse McCree!" Lena was practically bouncing in her seat. Winston's eyes widened. Fareeha choked on her drink.

"No way! What's he like? Does he really dress like a cowboy?"

"Yeah! And he's so cool," Lena's face twisted from a smile into a frown, "He sprayed me and that snobby rich girl I told you about with water which sucked. But it was super cool when he flipped one of her guards onto his back."

Reinhardt cleared his throat, "Jesse McCree, the Overwatch agent?" Both Lena and Winston nodded excitedly. Angela seemed to be the only one wondering why McCree sprayed the girls, but no one else seemed to have caught that tidbit.

"How do you know about him?" Reinhardt's face hardened a bit. Concern painted his face.

"They collect these comics of old Overwatch agents," Fareeha replied for them. She seemed especially focused on her noodles, "From what I've read, McCree was a total beast on the field." She took another sip of her drink.

Reinhardt glanced at Fareeha and sighed. "You can't believe those comics. The things we did..." He trailed off. Reinhardt shook his head and changed the subject. "So what do you want to be when you're older?" He asked Angela.

"I think a medical career perhaps. I'm not reall-"

"THAT'S HOW I KNOW YOU!" Lena shot up from her seat. They all looked at her incredulously.

"Lena, it is rude to interrupt people while they're talking," Reinhardt reprimanded.

Lena nodded her head and sat back down "I'm sorry it's just I got excited." She looked at Angela, who was suddenly very sweaty. "You're that doctor right? That hotshot doctor out from Switzerland?" She probed. She was like a dog with a bone, her natural curiosity completely bypassing her manners. 

"I-" Angela began but Winston humming in realization cut her off. "Lena's right. We've seen you in the papers. This one night we had to use a bunch of newspapers as blankets because of the temperature and we saw you on the cover. When you got that award a few years ago? Something about being youngest in the field?"

Lena looked at Winston excitedly, "See? I knew I wasn't bonkers!" Both Fareeha and Angela were too stunned to say much. Lena took the silence as an opportunity to continue her questions.

"You are a doctor? At such a young age? How impressive." Reinhardt smiled. He always loved young people who were prodigies. He felt it was a testament to how efficient a community could be if they only bonded together to nurture intelligence. Lena took the silence that followed as an opportunity to continue her questions. "Wait, if you're a doctor, why are you in high school?"

Angela cleared her throat, avoiding Fareeha's incredulous gaze. "I, uh, wanted some type of normalcy. I skipped high school entirely and I never got to experience it. So here I am."

"What's he like?" Winston asked with a mouthful of food. The color drained from Angela's face. Her voice wavered as she spoke,

"Who are you talking about?"

Winston finished swallowing, "Genji Shimada."

Fareeha cut in, her heart racing and her feet feeling numb like they usually did before something terrible happened. Her gut instinct was centered in her feet, "Who is that?"

"He's the world champion for his weight class in MMA and a few other fighting styles," Winston replied, "I've always wanted to see him in person."

"Oh, yeah! That guy!" Lena grinned, "He's totally aces." She turned to Angela, who looked like she was ready to pass out at any moment. The next words that came out of Winston's mouth were the ones Angela was dreading.

"Are you two still together? The papers sai-"

"You have a boyfriend?" Fareeha asked quietly. Winston kept talking but Angela couldn't hear him. This was not how she wanted Fareeha to find out. She did nothing but nod and watched as Fareeha's jaw clenched in quiet anger. Fareeha stood from the table and cleared her plate. Angela forced a smile and followed suit. She excused herself from the table and they both went to the kitchen in tense, awkward silence. Fareeha made a beeline for the sink and turned the faucet on. She grabbed the soap and sponge sitting on the counter and began washing her plate. She reached a hand out expectantly. Angela handed her plate over and tried to make contact with her, but Fareeha quickly snatched the plate and her hand away. Angela swallowed nervously.

"Fareeha, I-" She began but a glare from her stopped the words.

"I have been flirting with you. Spending time with you." Fareeha scrubbed at the dishes harshly, "You let me. You could have told me you had a boyfriend. But you let me fall for you. You let me look like a fucking idiot." She hissed. Angela felt the situation slipping from her grasp.

"Fareeha, please. I-" 

"I think it's best you leave," Fareeha said curtly. Anger burned in her throat like hot coals but she refused to let Angela see her cry. She heard Angela sigh and her footsteps recede. 

She listened intently as Angela made an excuse to leave so soon. Reinhardt and the kids walked her to the door. Fareeha grit her teeth to keep from crying angry tears. Heartbreak was something she didn't feel like explaining. especially not when it was still so fresh in her mind.

* * *

 

The sun shined brightly as the birds chirped their happy melodies. A small creek than ran through the park gurgled peacefully by, adding to the picturesque atmosphere. Lena sat on a bench under a lamp post near the paved path. She had trouble sitting still, her patience wearing thin. She looked at the Hello Kitty watch that Hana had given her.

_4:52_

Lena wanted to scream bloody murder but she knew it wouldn’t help. Rearranging the bag next to her, she sighed, remembering the events that led to her waiting for a girl she couldn’t stand. The past few months had been turbulent to say the least. Fareeha with the whole Angela situation and Winston's unusually secretive behavior. Hana seemed to be the only one who had her life together. Lena chuckled, wishing she was that young again. Everything was so simple at that age. But that was beside the point. Torbjörn had come back, ending the steady stream of busy work. Lena was grateful, until she realized it meant working with Amélie. But that problem was quickly remedied when Amélie dropped hints that they ought to work separately.

_\--_

_“We are going to work separately.” She said sharply. Lena shrugged her shoulders but shot Amélie a glare regardless._

_And they had done a great job working by themselves for the past few months, avoiding each other unless necessary, but they found that such occasions never arose. Always finding alternate solutions that eliminated the need to ask the other questions. It was all going great until earlier, when Torbjörn asked Lena what Amélie was working on. Her inability to answer is what gave it all away. The look of disappointment on his face was a look Lena decided she never wanted to be on the receiving end of ever again. She mumbled out an apology and tried not to feel angry when he handed her a sheet of paper with the days of the week on it. Neat little lines dividing them._

_“What’s this for?” Lena looked up at him_. _Torbjörn_ _handed Amélie a copy of the sheet._

_“You will both need signatures from your guardians. This will ensure that you both work together, as I instructed.” Torbjörn gave Lena a look when she opened her mouth to protest. “You will work together, though it is a shame I must treat you both as little children.”_

_Amélie scoffed but said nothing. She shot a glare in Lena’s direction, mentally cursing her despite knowing it was partially her fault for not at least giving her updates on what she was working on._

\--

They had agreed to meet at 5:00 after school, but Lena had been waiting for what seemed like forever.

_Today of all days to be caught. What a load of barmy._

She sighed, willing herself to mellow out. Lena looked up to the sky and heard the faint sound of a plane that happened to be flying overhead. Birds zipped past and the wind ran its fingers through her hair at that moment. She sighed again. This time, a smile crept onto her face.

_Someday, I’ll be in the sky too._

She began to think of her mother, wondering if she would be proud. Lena missed her dearly although she felt the memories fading. The sound of her voice was faint in her mind and her face even fainter. She felt herself getting sad and quickly shook the thoughts from her mind. She thought of the new family she had at home. She smiled at the new memories she had. And the place she could call home. She knew she would always be safe with Reinhardt and Fareeha around.

_I’m one of the lucky ones_

Lena closed her eyes and let her head fall back. She faced the sky and felt the warm sun on her face. The wind played in her messy hair once more and she felt at peace with thoughts of home and the planes she was going to fly. She daydreamed of perhaps being the pilot to fly Fareeha to daring missions and being among the proud serving in the British Air Force. It worried her some that Fareeha was going off to join the military after she graduated but Lena knew it was a dream she had to pursue. She just didn’t want there to be a day when Fareeha wouldn’t come home. Hana still had dreams of becoming a princess and Winston had his eye on being a bioengineer and computer scientist. Good dreams for good kids. Lena briefly wondered what Reinhardt wanted to be when he was younger, before the omnic crisis hit.

Lost in thought, Lena didn’t hear the footsteps approach her from behind. The world behind Lena’s eyelids went dark and a shadow fell over her face.

“Huh?” She cracked an eye open and was greeted with two hazel ones. She opened the other eye and shot a glare at the girl standing over her. Amélie looked like a model from one of those fancy clothing stores. She wore a light sweater with the image of a spider printed on the front. She also had simple black leggings and flats. The lean muscles were visible with every slight shift in movement. Rewards of being a dancer. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. Ridiculous. Lena scoffed.

“You’re late.” She spat.

“Am I?” the corner of Amélie’s mouth began to curl into a smirk. She readjusted the knapsack that hung off her shoulder.

Lena glanced down at her watch. 5:00

“Okay well I have been waiting for the past 10 minutes.”

“ _Chérie_ , we agreed to meet at 5 o'clock. It is not my problem if you cannot follow instructions. That is why we are in this mess, is it not?” Amélie gave an obviously fake smile which made Lena’s blood boil.

“It’s your fault too. If you weren’t so bloody…” She trailed off, leaving Amélie with a raised eyebrow, daring her to finish the sentence.

“If I wasn’t so what? Cat got your tongue?” Amélie egged her on.

“Nothing. Let’s go. I’m hungry and you aren’t worth me missing dinner.” Lena stood and grabbed her bag from the bench. She began to walk away, angrily mumbling to herself. Lena was trying to be more like Fareeha who never let people know they were affecting her, but it was difficult for her. Impulsivity was ingrained in her personality.

Lena kicked a pebble and walked a little faster.

She missed the scowl that fell over Amélie’s face.

* * *

They walked in silence the entire way. Lena didn’t mind it, she spent the time daydreaming. But Amélie wanted to get on all 100 billion of Lena’s nerves. She found it amusing when her face would twist with anger at whatever clever comment Amélie made. Misery really did love company.

 _Merde,_ Amélie felt her calf cramp up. She was sore from last night’s practice. The rigor was something she enjoyed but her body was always protesting. She pushed herself harder than her classmates did and she prided herself on that. No one had as much determination as she did. Every drop of sweat and every drop of blood was worth it. Her instructor was always talking about competing against yourself rather than the other dancers. But she was a creature of spite. When people in her troupe would whisper that she wasn’t anything special, she would work even harder and prove them wrong. She had an incredible work ethic and a dancer's heart.

None of that mattered in this moment. Usually, she would be the one leading, but cramped muscles prevented her from overtaking Lena, even with the height difference.

_Damn those little legs of hers._

Amélie huffed and pushed herself to walk the short distance that was left to Lena’s front stoop. It was painful and it happened quicker than she could process. Much to her horror, Amélie tripped. She skinned her palms catching her fall. She felt her knees begin to sting.

Lena looked back, confused. “You alright, Amé?”

“Do not call me that.” Amélie hissed. The stinging in her palms and knees coupled with the pain in her calf was overwhelming. She panicked and hoped nothing was torn. She could practice though the pain of skinned knees. But she couldn’t afford to tear anything, not with the recital that was coming up in a few months.

“Oi, I’m just trying to help. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Lena shot back. She knelt beside Amélie and set her bag down. She rummaged for some time before pulling a small box out. She let out a small squeal in victory and opened it. Band-Aids, alcohol pads, and antiseptic gel packets sat in neat little rows. A first aid kit. Amélie looked at Lena, wondering how someone could be such a dork.

Lena caught the look and rolled her eyes. “What? I’m clumsy. By the looks of it, so are you. I thought dancers were supposed to be graceful and catlike.”

“I am graceful. I got a calf cramp. That’s all.” Amélie replied, offended someone implied that she lacked grace.

“Whatever you say, love” Lena got closer. She opened an alcohol wipe and gestured towards Amélie’s hands. “May I?”

Amélie hesitated at first, then nodded. Lena gingerly took one of her hands and cradled it in her own, holding it so delicately, almost like it was made of porcelain.

“Hey, this might sting. Well, not might. It will sting, probably so just- I’m sorry” Lena began to gently wipe away the blood droplets that had seeped through the breaks in Amélie’s skin.

Amélie hissed in pain and almost jerked her hand away.

“It’s that heavy duty, military stuff, I never liked it but Reinhardt says it’s the best. He knows his onions about things like that.” Lena smiled as she said it.

“Knows his onions?” Amélie was confused, what did onions have to do with scraped hands?

“Oh, it means he knows what he’s talking about. Sorry I get carried away with crazy saying sometimes. My mum used to say stuff like that I think.” Lena opened a pack of gel and gingerly applied it to Amélie’s hand.

Amélie hummed, the gel numbed the throbbing pain in her hand. She studied the look of concentration on Lena’s face. The wind began to gently blow and Lena’s hair began to shift. It looked soft. Amélie reached up and ran her free hand through Lena’s hair. She stopped when she realized what she was doing and began to blush furiously.

“I apologize. I-It looked- There was. There was a leaf in your hair.” Amélie looked away, desperate for the ground to open and swallow her whole. She mentally chastised herself, wondering what possessed her to do such a thing.

Lena looked confused but smiled regardless. She applied a bandage and grabbed Amélie’s other hand, repeating the process with the same care. This time, neither girl spoke. A smile danced on Lena’s lips.

“All set. Are you knees okay?” Lena asked, concern written all over her face.

“I believe so.” Amélie stood. Her calf muscle still felt a little uncomfortable. She pointed her toes towards and away from herself. It helped. She sighed with relief when she realized nothing was torn. They walked to the door. Lena pulled out her keys and as she was turning the lock, Amélie spoke.

“Thank you.”

“Hm?” Lena looked back at her.

“For the bandages. Thank you.” Amélie looked away, opting to watch a paper bag roll away instead of making eye contact.

“Don’t mention it, love.” Lena grinned.

The smell of dinner being made engulfed Amélie as soon as she set foot in the house. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered. She didn’t even have an appetite on her way over, but the smell alone was enticing. She took in her surroundings. A child’s drawings hung on the walls, planes strung from the ceiling. A feeling that Amélie wasn’t used to begin to bloom in her chest. She frowned but brushed it off, dismissing it as nerves from being in a new house. As soon as Lena shut the door, she heard a rush of feet thunder down the stairs. An ape and a lanky teenager nearly crashed into Lena trying to reach the bottom before the other.

“Where’s the other one?” Lena asked, looking around. Amélie glanced around the room, looking for whatever it was Lena was referring to.

A gleeful screech made its way down the stairs. A little girl with chubby cheeks and a gap in her smile slid down the banister. The lanky teen bent her knees and leaned forward ever so slightly. The child squealed in delight when she jumped off and landed on the other girl’s back.

“They spent days practicing that.” Lena mumbled. Amélie giggled at the image, wondering how many times they failed the maneuver.

A massive man emerged from the kitchen, bedazzled apron swinging from his neck.

“Lena,” He bellowed “Where are your manners?”

“Oh right,” Lena cleared her throat. She met Amélie’s questioning gaze, “Right, this is Reinhardt. Winston is that lovely chap right there. Lúcio is usually here but his mom wanted him home today. Fareeha is the bean stalk and the little bean clinging to her is Hana. I’m Lena obviously.” She laughed at her own joke.

“Don’t hate me because you can’t seem to grow.” Fareeha retorted playfully.

“Will I be big and tall when I’m grown up?” Hana looked worried about ending up like Lena.

“If you drink lots of milk and eat all of your vegetables you will.” Fareeha gave Hana a reassuring smile.

“Thank you for inviting me into your lovely home.” Amélie extended her hand but Reinhardt pulled her in for a side hug.

“No, thank YOU for putting up with this rascal.” Reinhardt ruffled Lena’s perpetually messy hair.

“I’m not that bad.” Lena mumbled, she tried running a hand through her hair to try and make it look some type of presentable. To no avail of course.

“If only you put as much effort into cleaning your room as you do trying to fix your hair.” Fareeha sighed in mock despair.

“Oi, I did clean it!” She protested.

“When? Last year?” Winston joked and Lena shot him a glare. Their playful banter made Amélie envious of their closeness. Reinhardt laughed and it was contagious.

It was in that moment that Amélie decided she liked Reinhardt. Despite the gnarly scar that ran down his face, he was the friendliest man she had ever met.

“Is it dinner time yet?” Winston and Lena asked in unison.

“Jinx!”

Lena and Winston began to laugh at their synchronization. Amélie wondered what it would be like to have a friend she was in tune with. She looked at Lena’s smiling face. Perhaps...

_She and I are too different._

“Go wash your hands, little ones,” Reinhardt looked at Lena, “Not you. Run and clean your room. Our guest might die of fright if she sees it in the state it is in right now.”

Lena huffed but ran up the stairs anyway. The blur of hair racing away made Amélie smile. Lena’s house was interesting to say the least.

* * *

Amélie spent a bit longer in the bathroom than she normally did. She felt nervous, fearful the façade she had been working so hard to maintain would crumble if she made a wrong move.

“Amélie, you good in there?” Lena knocked, her voice muffled by the door.

She opened the door and Lena jumped back.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I wasn’t being a creeper or nothing.” Lena was flustered and it made Amélie chuckle.

Both girls made their way to the dining room where the delicious smells swept Amélie off her feet once more. There was a long rectangular table. Nine seats in total. The others were already sitting and happily giggling. There was joy at the table and Amélie thought of the tables at which she had sat. Banquet dinners and galas her father had dragged her to, none of them had as much life as the one before her. She couldn’t recall a single table that had the genuine display of joy and respect as this one. For a moment, Amélie envied Lena. Happy, hyper Lena who, despite the financial gap between them, was richer than Amélie was. Lena had more in this room at that moment than Amélie did in her entire house. Lena had family. And that was more wealth than most of the rich people had.

Everyone was engrossed in their own conversation and that left Lena and Amélie in their own little world. As she took her place at the table beside Lena, she realized the plate in front of her was different than those around her. A steamed, colorful medley of vegetables sat on her plate next to 2 fillets of grilled chicken. Both were lightly seasoned with salt and pepper and Amélie’s stomach growled loud enough for Lena to turn her head and giggle.

“You hungry?”

Amélie blushed and nodded. She studied the meal on Lena’s plate fried fish and-

“Hey is your dinner okay? I told Reinhardt you were a dancer,” She began to ramble, “and he was all ‘Athletes need nutrition.’ But did you want fish and chips instead?” Lena looked worried again.

“Chips?” Amélie cocked her head to the side, unsure of what Lena just said. Though she felt a bit of pride that someone had recognized ballet as a sport. Few people did.

“Yeah! Chips! The best thing on earth!”

“ _Non._ Those are French fries. My American friend told me so.” It didn’t make much sense because the Belgians were the ones who had the idea but, _c'est la vie._

“Aww, that’s rubbish. Americans like renaming things. That’s all.” Lena popped a fry into her mouth, grinning.

“If you say so, _chérie_.”

“Hey I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lena swallowed, and with all the seriousness in the world, “Who is Sherie? You keep calling me that but you know my name is Lena.”

Amélie giggled and Lena’s stomach felt funny. “ _Non, non,_ I know your name, but ‘chérie’ for the French is like, ‘love’ for the British.”

Lena nodded in understanding.

“Oi, you aren’t that bad. We might actually be best mates.”

Amélie scoffed, “And who said I wanted to be friends with you, _chérie_?” She playfully elbowed Lena.

“Fight me.”

* * *

 

After dinner, the pair made their way upstairs to Lena’s room. Amélie was wary of the potential chaos she might find in Lena’s room. The smell of vanilla and eucalyptus leaves pleasantly filled her nose upon entering the room. She felt calm. Lena’s walls were painted a sky blue. Model planes were hanging from the ceiling. A desk was pushed up against the wall. On it rested a work lamp and miscellaneous books. However, the mess of scraps is what caught her eye. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a model plane Lena had yet to finish. Parts and tools were scattered, making it look like a mini war zone. A dresser and a night stand were also pushed against the walls. Orange goggles and a brown jacket hung on the back of the closet door. Plushy white carpet covered the floor. It looked like a room from a magazine. Amélie felt serene. She felt at peace. Or at least for a moment she did. Her eyes fell on the missile that rested on its side in the corner of her room. She nearly jumped out of her skin, but Lena’s laughter kept her from yelping in fear.

“Yeah. Got a missile for a bed. Ace, ain’t it? It was Fareeha’s. Her mom had someone hollow it out. And disable it of course. But she grew out of it, so it’s mine now.” Lena grinned proudly, “We all have cool beds. Except Fareeha. She just has a bunk bed, kinda. There’s a desk instead of a bottom bunk. Reinhardt bought Winston and Hana’s bed. She has a pink race car and he has this rocket ship thing.”

Amélie almost asked to go and see their bedrooms, but she felt like that would be intrusive.

“So where do we begin?”

Lena plopped down beside her bed, her back against the cold surface. She patted the space next to her. Amélie sat with much more grace. Both pulled their respective assignments from their bags. They worked in relative quiet, Lena’s occasional sniffle and Amélie’s quiet sighs. The rustle of paper and the scratching of pencil and pen over paper. It was serene. They were both calm. 

Amélie lifted her gaze from the papers in front of her and looked at Lena. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and her lips moved as her eyes flew across the page. Lena was smarter than Amélie had given her credit for. Remorse and shame began to build in her throat. She opened her mouth to speak. She wanted to apologize for her behavior and her misconceptions. But she didn't have the courage to break the silence. Amélie sighed.

Another day then.

* * *

 

It was hard to leave that night. Amélie resisted the urge to stick her head out of the town car window and watch as the brownstone faded into the distance. Lena and Hana sported wide smiles and waved goodbye. Fareeha stood at the entrance, keeping watch. Amélie’s father had promised to pick her up, but she wasn’t naïve anymore. She wasn’t surprised to see another nameless driver at the wheel. But it felt like a cold splash of water after being in such a warm and loving home. She envied Lena for that.

She lay awake in bed that night. The house was dead silent. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. She would never have a home like Lena’s. And she wasn’t sure what to do with that realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ellie Goulding- [Home](https://youtu.be/JAHqBh9oB9k)


	6. Lose It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Step into my meme-tastic blog [hellaclassyfabandsassy](http://hellaclassyfabandsassy.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Love you guys. thanks for the comments and kudos. ^.^ this one is like 5k and some change

Fareeha listened to the instructor drone on about the science behind boiling an egg. At least, that’s what she thought they were talking about. She had had her head in the clouds for most of the lesson, too preoccupied with the emotions she felt. It had been a few months since the incident with Angela. She found it nearly impossible to get those crystal blue eyes out of her head. The more she tried the harder it got. Some nights, some nights it was bearable. But other nights the pain of heartbreak would come rushing back like an ocean wave. It would knock the breath out of her lungs. Winston seemed changed as well. He threw himself into whatever project he could get his hands on, almost like he was trying to cover something. Hana and Lena were the only ones not having a crisis of some sort. If anything, Lena seemed happier. That girl, Amélie seemed to bring out a goofier side of Lena. They were an amusing pair. It seemed like they were total opposites. Lena was like a river rapid, rushing and relentless. She was full of energy and life. But Amélie more like a calm, halcyon creek. She moved with grace and dignity. But there was a sadness about her. Fareeha noticed it one day when she saw Amélie in the hall. Her eyes were dim. But they slowly lit up when Lena bounded to her. Fareeha watched as the girls walked to class together.

Fareeha’s thoughts were interrupted by the bell ringing, signaling the end of class. She gathered her things and shoved them into the messenger bag she carried. She hadn’t even bothered to take out a pencil for the day.

She made her way to the lunch room. The food here wasn’t bad but nothing beat Reinhardt’s cooking. It was hard to go back to microwaved food after eating his cooking. She wondered if he wanted to be in the culinary field before the Omnic Crisis hit. She never got the nerve to ask him out of fear of bringing up bad memories for him.

She sauntered over to her usual table and pulled out the book she had been trying to finish for the longest. Vampires were cool. Lesbian vampires were cooler. She preferred this book to whatever terrible book she had to read in Lit class a few years back. Fareeha was grateful that she had forgotten the title. She wondered how that sparkly idiot even made it into classic literature. She shuddered at the memory. She picked up where she left off.

Fareeha was almost done with the chapter when she realized she was being watched. She put her book down and scanned the lunch room. Her eyes met clear blue ones and her blood began to boil. She found out Angela had the same lunch period as she did, a realization that would have made her heart soar before finding out about Angela's boyfriend

It took all her willpower not to curse her out the day she spotted Angela in the lunch room.

Fareeha glared at Angela until she looked away. A small smile of satisfaction danced on her lips. But it quickly faded when she heard Angela’s giggle from across the room. She felt jealousy grip her stomach. Her eyes wandered from the page and onto Angela’s near perfect face. She watched as Genji Shimada’s arm draped over her shoulders. It made her feel nauseous to watch him pull her closer to her. Fareeha wished it was her that Angela looked at with adoration and not Genji. Genji, the reckless boy she had heard so much about. The champion fighter. After Angela had left her house that night, she hurriedly rushed to look up Genji Shimada. Not only was he a world renowned fighter, he was also the son of a pharmaceutical heavyweight. The boy with wild green hair paired perfectly with the girl of Fareeha's dreams.

She felt like nobody when she compared herself to him. A small part of her felt like she would never be good enough for Angela. She realized they were both accomplished and at such a young age too. She hadn’t done much except live in her mother’s shadow. It was only logical for Angela to go for the bigger hotshot.

Another part of her wanted to prove herself worthy of Angela’s affections. But right now, all she wanted to do was yank her feelings out from her chest and never feel again. It was ridiculous to feel this much for someone she just met and only known for a week. She chastised herself for being so weak. She brushed the thoughts from her mind.

 _Focus on your book, Amari._ She wondered where the rest of the crew was. Perhaps it was her impatience and frustration, but she wondered what the hell was taking them so long.

_They should be here by now._

She surveyed the cafeteria and realized she had arrived earlier than usual. People were trickling in. She hadn’t noticed that until now.

 _That’s why I could hear her laugh_.

She frowned at her obviousness. She had been so focused on Angela she had forgotten to study her surroundings. She wanted to practice her observation skills so that she would be somewhat prepared for the military. Butterflies began to flutter in her stomach, nervousness setting in. it was still some time away but Fareeha was anxious to see what the future would hold. She wanted to honor her mother and failing out of school was not the way to do so. She took deep breaths and harnessed her emotions. She took in her surroundings. The sound of shoes scuffling. The buzz of the light in the corner flickering. Plastic trays being slammed down onto the tables. Conversations and laughter. She opened her eyes again and tried to guess how many people were in the lunch room. 75? 90? She wasn’t sure, but the noise level was slowly rising. She decided to go back to her book. She would try again tomorrow.

Fareeha heard that angelic laughter again and her heart began to race again. She tried not to look up.

* * *

Angela giggled at Genji’s stupid joke about his brother. It wasn’t particularly funny but she wasn’t sure what to do anymore. She was just going through the motions. Despite the laughter, she couldn’t help but feel empty. She rested her elbow on the table and cradled her head in her hand. She let her eyes wander until they landed on a someone.

A girl.

Fareeha Amari.

Classes that Angela looked forward to were now classes she hated. The look of hurt and anger in Fareeha's eyes made learning take a backseat to trying to fix things between them. But the damage was done.

She sighed, her gaze tracing the curve of Fareeha’s nose, the soft quality of her lips that moved as she read whatever book that was in her hand. The soft jawline she had. Dark piercing eyes that saw deeper than Angela wanted to admit. Those same eyes that were glaring daggers into her direction. She sighed again, this time in frustration. Hurting Fareeha was something she never wanted to do.

“You are quiet today. Are you all right?” Hanzo’s voice snapped her out of the haze she was in.

Genji laughed and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead as he did. “I leave her speechless. That’s all, brother.”

Angela forced a laugh and hoped it sounded genuine. “You think too highly of yourself sometimes.”

“She is right, little brother.” Hanzo smiles. While the brothers bickered, her eyes wandered again. This time, they landed on Genji. The sharp curve of his jawline, every muscle visible when he clenched his jaw. His lips, soft and reassuring.

 _I wonder if her lips…_ She shook the thought from her head, deciding to look at Genji some more. There wasn’t a blemish on his face that would mar his boyish good looks. He had the face of a young god. She wondered how many sculptors would kill to use him as a model. He had beautiful ink black hair before he went and dyed it green. It suited him, he was young and wild and full of life. It was the mischievous gleam in his eye that she fell in love with 2 years ago. She thought back to when she first met him. A rainy day when they both got stuck under an awning. She smiled at the memory.

\--

_She hadn’t listened when they told her to bring an umbrella. Angela had seen the weather reports, but the sun was shining and the birds were singing. She saw a sparrow zip by and decided that despite all the technological advancements, meteorologists weren’t shit._

_That’s why Angela burst into incredulous laughter when the first drop of rain hit her forehead. It left a trail as it slid down the bridge of her nose. She figured she had enough to time book it the rest of the way to the hospital without getting too wet. But it was almost like someone opened a faucet somewhere and water began to pour from the charcoal grey storm clouds. She lowered her head and ran for cover. She ran straight into a somebody and nearly fell into a muddy puddle, but a firm hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Her blue eyes met grey ones._

_“Are you all right?” The boy asked her. She felt her heart beat a little faster. He had rosy cheeks and shiny black hair. Small droplets rolled down his jawline. A jawline that could cut glass. She knew she was in trouble when he cracked a tiny smile. She caught a glimpse of his perfect, white teeth._

_“I-I… Yes. Didn’t see you.” Her heart pounded in her ears._

_He laughed. His laughter reminded her of windchimes, light and musical. “Good thing I saw you then.” She noticed he had a light accent._

_He let her go and they sat under the awning for hours. They talked and got to know each other. They had been so engrossed in their conversation they hadn’t even noticed that the rain had gone and the sun was shining in its stead._

\--

She put her hand over her mouth as if to stop the gasp that quietly slipped from her lips. She looked at the brilliant smile Genji had on his face. Such a youthful face. He was a beautiful boy and he always loved her for who she was. He loved her with the purest parts of his heart. Genji had helped her come to terms with the loss of her parents. He loved her on the nights she woke up wailing from reliving their deaths in her dreams. He loved her on the days she refused to get out of bed for anything in the world.. It was he who helped her live again. They helped each other grow.

So why the hell was Angela so unhappy? She didn’t know how dissatisfied she had been with her life until that day that she met Fareeha. Fareeha Amari, the girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Angela felt the urge to try and take some of the burden from her, but she didn’t have the right to, especially not with the way she hurt Fareeha. She couldn’t stand to see the hurt in Fareeha’s eyes. Those eyes that reminded her of the darkest of nights. Eyes like two infinite abysses. Dark pools that Angela could help but getting lost in. There was the wisdom of the ages in her eyes. They always seemed to see past the mask Angela showed the world. It was Fareeha who made her feel things Genji no longer could. But Angela went and made a mess of things.

“Hey. You good?” Genji nudged her. He noticed when Angela went quiet. She looked at his eyes, grey like steel and bits of green embedded in that steel. She felt her heart break a little when she realized her heart didn’t speed up like it used to when they first met. She sighed. They weren’t the eyes she wanted to gaze into anymore.

“Nothing. Just tired.” She replied but refused to look into his eyes. She couldn’t bear to lie to someone else, at least not to their face. Lying was hard for her, but avoiding eye contact helped. However, it didn’t lessen the guilt any.

“Did you take another shift at the hospital?” His eyes shrouded in concern. It wasn’t often that he was serious, he was 19 but he acted like a 13-year-old on some days. She shook herself out of her thoughts.

“Yeah. They needed more hands. So, I volunteered.”

He sighed. “Angela, you cannot keep pushing yourself like this. Even you need a break.”

She looked at him. The grey eyes, the ones that had once protected her, were the same ones that caged her. She wasn’t happy but she had spent too much time with Genji to just let it go. It broke her heart to hurt people. She was a doctor for crying out loud.

“Genji. Don’t worry. I am not made of glass.”

Genji was about to say something when Hanzo’s pocket began to vibrate and ring. Hanzo gathered his things.

“It’s Father. He needs me back at work.”

“But you were supposed to spar with me today.” Genji protested. Despite having graduated a few years earlier, Hanzo made a point of eating lunch with his little brother whenever he could. But he was the older brother and expected heir of the Shimada Pharmaceutical Company. His father’s expectations often took a toll on their relationship. Hanzo was always one to put duty over the heart.

Hanzo sighed, “I promise. Next time. I’ll see you at home.” He leaned across the table and planted a firm kiss on Genji’s forehead before ruffling his hair. Both brothers laughed and Hanzo departed with a smile. Angela watched as Genji’s cheerful demeanor crumbled.

“I know Father expects a lot from him but I miss him sometimes. We used to be so close. Father never comes to my matches and Hanzo hasn’t been to the last few.” Angela felt his sadness begin to seep into her heart. She felt awful for daydreaming about a stranger while he was struggling with the strain on his relationship with his brother.

“He loves you, you know this. Sometimes we must let go of people and let them live the lives they were meant to live.” Angela’s hands reached for Genji’s face. She turned his head to face her. She looked into his eyes, which were beginning to water. “In time, you too will have to leave him so that you can live your life.” She hesitated but leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. He kissed her back and sighed into her mouth.

Genji pulled away but pulled her in for a hug. He nuzzled into her neck and sighed again. He felt safe with her. But Angela was more focused on the frown that began to form on Fareeha’s face. The look of hurt was the last thing Angela saw before Fareeha shot out of her seat and almost ran out of the cafeteria. She hadn’t even bothered to wait for the others to arrive. Angela wondered if perhaps someone would comfort her and mend the hurt she had been causing.

* * *

It was too much for Fareeha. She abruptly stood and left the cafeteria, long strides helping her leave faster. Seeing the tenderness between them made her feel sick with envy. Envy that it wasn’t her Angela wanted. And anger. A ball of anger swirled in her stomach. She was angry that someone she barely knew had such a sway on her emotions. And she was angry at herself for revealing how she felt. A lump had formed in her throat and she took deep breaths as she moved, trying to calm herself. She finally burst out of the building and into the courtyard. A large oak tree stood and provided shelter from the afternoon sun. She considered sending Winston or Lena a message, notifying them of her whereabouts. Reinhardt had bought them all phones earlier that month. But she wanted some time alone. Time to recompose herself.

She let her legs lead her to the shade of the tree and she sat cross-legged. Fareeha waited and hoped for even the briefest moments of peace. Anything to calm the storm of emotions she had brewing in her. She stared at the sky for some time and wished for her mother. It was times like these that she missed her dearly. She never had a chance to meet her father but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. It was hard to miss something you never had.

 _I wonder why I miss my mother then,_ she thought bitterly. It amused her to some degree to make jokes and quips about her mother never being there. But she needed her. In that moment in time, she needed her mother.

“Where you supposed to be?” A gruff voice called out. Her head spun to try and find the source of the voice. Her eyes landed on a man with a scruffy beard and a cigar hanging from his mouth.

“It’s my free period. And you aren’t supposed to be smoking on school grounds.” She responded.

He laughed, “You gon’ report me, sweetheart?”

Fareeha smiled at him, “Not for smoking, no, but those boots are an atrocity that should be reported, Jesse McCree.”

They both laughed. McCree sat under the tree with her. “I was wonderin’ when I might run into your scrawny ass.”

Fareeha elbowed him in the ribs, “I'd rather be scrawny than old, Jess. From what I hear you nap the days away, terrorizing school kids.”

“Hey, watch it with the old man jokes. I'm still young.” McCree stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles. He clasped his hands behind his head. His metal hand creaked as his fingers wove together. “I assume I terrorized that little Oxton kid, right?”

Fareeha smiled. She assumed the same position he did. “Not exactly. You’re like her hero. She’s really into the comics they put out about you old ass Overwatch agents. I pretended I didn’t know you.”

“I’m hurt, Amari. I didn't think you'd honor my request."

"You mean the one where you said I was better off pretending I didn't remember any of you just in case," Fareeha sat up and deepened her voice to imitate Jesse's, "'them INTERPOL folks come'? I mean, Christ Jesse, my mother was the best sniper in the history of the planet. What idiot wouldn't know who my big brother was when I was little?"

Jesse sighed, "I haven't been in the best life since your mom passed. She was like my second mom after mine died. I was just trying to protect you."

“Yeah, yeah” Fareeha picked at the grass beside her. She watched as the wind blew through the blades

“Why you out here?” He asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

She sighed. “I just needed a moment.”

“Is it your mom?”

“Sort of. Girl problems.”

McCree gave her a sideways glance and broke into a giggle, “Can’t relate. The ladies and the gentlemen can’t get enough of me.”

Fareeha burst into laughter, “Jesse McCree, you ugly man.”

They playfully shoved each other. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him until now. He was a big brother to her. McCree was Ana’s trainee. She saw him a lot more often than she saw her mom. With his goofy mannerisms coupled the stories he told, it was impossible not to be close friends with him. He had been an Overwatch agent and when the strike teams got decommissioned, she lost contact with him.

She skipped class and spent the afternoon under the tree with him. She let loose a flood of emotions she didn’t know she was feeling. They laughed and cried together. "Wait so why were you in Lena's class?" Fareeha suddenly asked. "Oh, Torbs called me up one fine morning. Said something about some guy named Sven and stolen tech. He reminded me of the times he saved my hide and when I agreed, he forged the documents I needed to take over for a few days." Jesse flicked the ashes from his cigar.

"Interesting..." Fareeha stared at the clouds.

They shared a comfortable silence. It was nice having him sit with her. She missed having him in her life and it made watching him leave hard. She looked down at the ground beside her as he did.

“Hey, Fareeha,” He called back. She looked up, “I miss her too.”

And with that, he was gone. She felt lighter.

* * *

They had done 10 minutes of work before they got distracted. Amélie concentrated as best she could. She thrust her legs straight out in front of her and swung forward, toes pointed towards the sky. She tucked her legs in and leaned her body forward with slightly more force.

_Legs down… up… down… u-_

“I’m going higher!!” Lena’s gleeful squeals filled the air. She was soaring, nearly parallel with the ground. Amélie’s competitive nature wouldn’t allow her to lose so easily so she threw more of her weight back, nearly laying down flat. She tucked her head in to avoid hitting the ground. She began gaining on Lena. She could almost taste victory.

Before she could initiate the banter, Lena cried out, “Oi! Look What I can do!”

And with that, Lena let go, effectively launching herself forward. For a moment, Amélie was impressed. It almost looked like Lena would stick the landing. Almost. Physics was always Winston’s specialty.

 Amélie could see that she had thrown her weight too far forward. It hurt to watch Lena’s face crash into the ground. The impact made wood chips fly all over and Lena’s body skid a good distance before rolling to a stop.

“Lena!” Amélie dug her heels into the ground with all the strength she could muster. The friction made her shoe unbearably hot but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She had to stop the swing. She jumped off and rushed to Lena’s side. Amélie carefully flipped Lena. Lena groaned as she was rolled to her back. Amélie gasped. The left half of Lena’s face was covered in small cuts. There were a few splinters. She began to panic.

“ _Merde!_ Your face!”

Lena cracked a smile, “It’s nothing. But my left arm hurts a whole bloody lot.”

“You probably broke it. Can you walk?” Amélie scanned the rest of Lena, worried there might be something she overlooked.

“I think so.” Lena tried to use her bad hand to get up but nearly screamed in pain. It was definitely broken. She chomped down on her lip to avoid making a scene. Several concerned parents began to gather.

Amélie pulled out her phone, dialing her driver. Amélie's guards were nowhere to be seen. Lena had noticed all 5 men had disappeared over the course of an hour. She had seen the last guard about 10 minutes before her accident. Concern grew in Lena's stomach

“I need to go to the hospital. Hurry, please”

Lena heard a faint _‘_ _Oui, Mademoiselle Amélie’_ before Amélie hung up. Her arm was killing her but she willed herself not to cry. They hobbled to the park entrance. The guards still hadn’t shown up. Lena frowned but her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car pulling up. She felt relieved and grateful. Amélie gingerly helped her get into the vehicle, trying her best not to touch Lena’s bad arm.

"'Tis but a scratch." Lena smiled, her energy was quickly draining. Keeping the tears back was proving to be a daunting task.

Amélie was trying to hold back a smile. "Are you ever serious?"

Lena's grin was almost contagious, "Of course not, love!"

* * *

Amélie sat in the waiting room patiently. And by patiently, it meant she was doing her best to sit still but ultimately failing. She kept tapping her foot against the floor. She had called Reinhardt on the way to let him know what happened and they met up at the hospital nearby. Lena was ushered in almost immediately with very little wait time. The hospital staff was doing a marvelous job at keeping them comfortable but Reinhardt was still on edge. He paced back and forth. Sweat coating his forehead. His breathing was slightly faster than normal. But then again so was Amélie’s. They were both so nervous. Fareeha seemed to be the only one who was keeping it together.

 _How is she so calm?_ Amélie thought. But upon closer inspection, she noticed Fareeha’s brow was creased in worry. Her hands were balled up into fists in the grey hoodie. It was subtle. But it showed how much she cared. Looking back at Reinhardt, Amélie wondered if her father would act the same way. She held back a scoff at the idea that he might send a driver in his stead or one of his assistants like he always did. She pushed the thought out of her head, deciding this was not the time or place to be thinking about herself.

“Reinhardt,” Fareeha stood abruptly and made her way towards him, “Sit down. You’re making me anxious.” She led him to the seat next to Amélie. The chair screeched as it slid back a bit. Fareeha sat back down across from them. Amélie took in her surroundings. Grey walls. Black uncomfortable chairs. Blue holovids. Brochures with happy people on them. She scoffed at someone smiling about having cancer. It was ridiculous to put smiling people on the cover for something like that. Amélie perked up when she heard Reinhardt mumble something.

“Hm?”

Reinhardt looked at her with wide eyes, “Did you say something?”

“ _Non,_ I thought you did.” She replied

“Oh.”

They were quiet for a good minute. Fareeha rested her head on the wall behind her chair and closed her eyes.

Amélie hesitated before speaking. “You don’t like hospitals, do you?”

Reinhardt chuckled humorlessly, “Is it that obvious?”

Amélie nodded.

“I wanted to be a police officer when I was young. Your age,” He began, “I wanted to protect people. It was always my dream. But the Omnic Crisis began and I enlisted in the German army instead. I was a soldier. A proud one. I fought for what I believed in and that is something I will never regret

“But there were things that happened. I struggle with accepting they were out of my control. A change in roster which resulted in my life being spared but the poor soul who took my place died along with the team I was meant to be fighting with. Random occurrences sometimes made me lose friends. Good friends. I lost them in hospitals much like this one. They all claimed to be state of the art, but back then, with all the violence, anything with 4 walls and a roof was state of the art. In the morning, they would be admitted in with a concussion and by night they would be in a body bag.”

He sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead away. Amélie and Fareeha both focused and clinging onto his every word.

“But I didn’t only lose friends. I lost my daughter too. She was like me when I was a boy. Young and idealistic. She wanted to protect innocents. She wasn’t much older than you now Fareeha. She joined the military as soon as she was old enough to serve. I tried to pull strings so that she would not be in harm’s way more than necessary. But it was not enough. My daughter was out in the marketplace on a supply run when an attack began. My brave girl saved a marketplace full of innocents, but she took a bullet for one of them. Nothing serious. I was out on a mission when I heard what happened. The government gave her a medal of valour. I was the proudest man on the planet that day.

She died a week later from an infection. Sepsis they said. The so called hospital that treated her didn’t know the first thing about medicine. Much less hygiene.”

There were tears in his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose to try and control the floodgates but it wasn’t much use. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. Neither of the girls knew what to say or what words would offer comfort. Fareeha had a feeling that nothing would help regardless. She decided to stand and give Reinhardt a hug. Amélie joined in. Fareeha broke away first. She felt a lump forming in her throat and that was too much crying in such a small space for her. She cleared her throat and sat back down, gluing her gaze to the ground. She heard Amélie whisper out the beginnings of an apology.

“ _Nein._ It is not your fault. Get those thoughts out of your head, little one.”

Amélie nodded. There were still traces of guilt in her eyes. Soft footsteps were heard coming down the hallway from the med bays.

“Oxton, Lena?”

There was something familiar about that voice. Fareeha’s head snapped up.

“Oh, fuck me.” She mumbled. Amélie heard and giggled.

 _Of course. Just my luck._ Fareeha thought

Reinhardt stood. His anxiety was back in full force. “Yes. Is she okay? Is she in pain?”

Angela Ziegler smiled, winning Reinhardt’s confidence and making Fareeha’s heart flutter.

“Yes, of course. She has a nondisplaced impact fracture. Nothing serious thankfully,” Dr. Ziegler scribbled something down, “I am going to prescribe painkillers. I also recommend that she not do any heavy physical activity. I don’t want her aggravating her injury any further.”

“Thank you so much,” Reinhardt felt relieved, “How can I repay you?” Fareeha wanted to scream at the way Angela soothed his anxiety so easily.

Dr. Ziegler smiled, eyes twinkling. There was no reason for anyone to distrust a smile like that. “There is no need sir. It is my pleasure to assist where I am most needed.”

Amélie finally spoke up, “Can we see her?”

“Ah! Of course! She is still groggy from the sedative we gave her to relieve the pain but she has been asking for you. Follow me please.”

They followed Dr. Ziegler through the seemingly endless med bays until finally reaching a private room.

“I put her somewhere a little more comfortable.” Angela’s eyes met Fareeha’s. Fareeha pursed her lips before sighing. She gave Angela a nod in gratitude. A smile danced on Angela’s lips.

There was nothing to stop Reinhardt from barreling into Lena’s room after Dr. Ziegler opened the door. His booming laugh echoed down the hallway once he saw Lena was alright. Amélie felt her guilt melt away at the sight of Lena shoveling red Jell-O into her mouth. Her cheeks had a rosy glow. The cast on her arm didn’t stop her from wolfing down at least 9 cups of the stuff. The empty containers were stacked neatly on her bedside table.

“Hey, Amé! Miss me?” She asked through a mouthful of Jell-O.

“I thought you said she was groggy, Doctor.” Fareeha leaned in and whispered into Dr. Ziegler’s ear. Angela smiled, shrugging, and throwing her hands in the air, “There must be something in that Jell-O.”

Amélie rolled her eyes but smiled regardless.

“Come feast with me!” Lena smiled. She excitedly patted the spot next to her. Her small body didn’t take up much room. Her cheeks had bits of red residue on them.

Reinhardt sighed in relief and sat down on the chair in the corner. He smiled as he watched Amélie hop onto the bed next to Lena. Amélie tentatively tasted the Jell-O Lena gave her to try. After a moment, she shrugged and nodded.

“Not bad.” She said. Both girls giggled and babbled away. Lena swore she could eat the stuff for the rest of her life and be happy. Amélie disagreed.

There was peace for a moment. Angela, Fareeha and Reinhardt watched them interact quietly. They were in their own little world. Angela quietly reached over and tapped Reinhardt’s shoulder.

“I will get the discharge papers ready, _ja_?” Dr. Ziegler whispered.

Reinhardt smiled and nodded. His heart filled with joy and for the first time in a long time, he was happy in a hospital. Dr. Ziegler walked out of the room. Fareeha resisted the urge to look back and watch her leave.

Angela smiled as she walked down the hallway. Lena and Amélie’s laughs could be heard from outside of the room. It was refreshing to hear laughter in the hospital. It was nice to have a break from the chorus of sobs she was used to hearing. She turned the corner. There were days when she wanted to give up being a doctor, but it was days like this that reminded her why she did what she did. The thought of someone losing a loved one like she lost her parents was something she never wanted anyone to experience.

She was almost out of the hospital wing when she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

“Ang- Dr. Ziegler!” Fareeha jogged up to her. She nervously ran a hand through her hair. “I uh… I wanted to thank you.”

Angela tried to sneak a glance at Fareeha’s rich brown eyes, but the moment she looked, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She was finally looking into the eyes she wanted to gaze into.

“For what?”

Fareeha looked away and chuckled nervously. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

“I know I have been a brat lately. I am sorry for that. But thank you for helping Lena. She means the world to me and I thank you for helping her despite the fact I have been nothing but ch- “

“Fareeha, it was my pleasure.” Angela gently placed a hand on Fareeha’s shoulder. She had forgotten about their height difference. It made her smile. She hadn’t expected Fareeha to pull her into a hug. She sighed into her, breathing in the smell of lotuses and vanilla. Hints of cinnamon too. Fareeha could smell nothing but antiseptic and sanitizer. But she enjoyed hugging Angela regardless. It was nice and she was reluctant to pull away.

They were silent for a moment.

“I’ll see you around?” Fareeha gave a lopsided grin, which made Angela’s heart speed up. She smiled back

“Of course _._ ”

* * *

Angela got home at 4 am. She threw her jacket onto the couch and began to strip, leaving a trail of clothes leading to her bedroom. Her roommate had already left for their shift at the hospital. She was grateful to have the apartment to herself. The alarms and voices and all the noises often got to be a lot for her. It was nice to have some peace and quiet. She groaned as she realized she only had 3 hours of sleep left before she had to go to school.

 _At least I’ll get to see her,_ Angela smiled. But then frowned. She shouldn’t be pining after someone who wasn’t Genji. Sweet, loyal Genji.

When her phone beeped, Angela couldn’t mask her disappointment at seeing Genji’s name instead of Fareeha’s on the screen. She tried to deny what she felt for Fareeha. But it was no use. But if she wanted to save what she had with Genji, she would have to push Fareeha away.

Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully, out of her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Austra- [Lose It](https://youtu.be/xugDCUufDSY)


	7. Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for parental abuse.
> 
> Hello everyone! It has been a wild month. I'm very sorry for not posting sooner.  
> Anyway happy one anniversary!

Hanzo watched from afar, safe in his black SUV. He had gotten a call about half an hour before. His father had made him the head of yet another operation. Hanzo wanted nothing to do with it, but he had learned the dangers of defying his father long ago.

The operation had taken months to orchestrate. Months of casing, bribery, and blackmail. With the help of one guard on the security detail, they managed to speed things up. Throughout the day, each of the guards had been followed and in the last hour, almost all had been taken captive. They were bound, gagged, and on their way to their final rest with the fish. The only one left was their mole, but even he would share the fate of his comrades. Hanzo could not afford loose ends. He had little qualms, however, about cutting that one particular life short. He despised honorless people.  People who lacked loyalty were among the worst types, in Hanzo's opinion.

He tapped his ear to activate the microphone. “Is everyone in position?”

There was some crackling over the coms before someone finally responded. “Affirmative, sir.”

Hanzo grunted. He checked his watch. It was going to be dark soon. All the better. He could make a cleaner escape under the cover of night.

“Alright. It is time. Phase One.”

He watched as the guard walked away from his post, leaving the target completely exposed and vulnerable. He scoffed.

“On my mark. Do not engage unless I tell you to. Anyone who acts without my order can join the girl's guards at the bottom of the ocean."

“Understood, sir.”

He went through the plan in his head.

_Grab the target. Dispose of the irrelevant one. Report back. Simple enough_

His eyes wandered to the file on his passenger seat. An enlarged copy of a school ID stared back at him. Unruly brown hair and bright happy eyes. Rosy cheeks and a brilliant smile.

_Lena Oxton. 13._

Underneath her ID lay a similar paper. Except this one had his target’s information. Hanzo had read the files enough times to know her name.

 _Amélie_   _Guillard._

He picked up the paper, studying her features. Raven black hair. Hazel eyes stared blankly at him. There wasn’t a single trace of a smile. She almost looked like a doll with how perfect and lifeless she appeared. The top of her blue uniform poked out from the bottom of the picture. She was 14. Her birthday had passed only a few months before the semester had started. He looked back at her eyes. This was his target.

_It is a shame we must pay for the sins of our fathers._

Her father had been pushing for trade policy changes that would increase taxes on imports. Namely machine parts that weren't made of hard light, a revolutionary energy-efficient technology. The change in policy would hurt the Shimada Corporation in the long run.

He sighed, throwing the papers back on top of the pile. He couldn't care less about any of it, but his father was adamant on keeping the policies the same. It was only because his father made him that he studied everything about his target. Hanzo was meticulous in his research. Schedules, known associates, routines, everything. Down to the toothpaste she used. He had all the information on this girl. All the tools he needed to kidnap her. He had it all uploaded to his personal tablet, but he liked having hard copies of things. A paper couldn’t be deleted or altered. It was a safer than having something hackable. Secrecy was something he valued.

The Shimada Pharmaceutical Company was just a front. Sure, they had a hand in the production of medical equipment and medicine. However, unknown to most, the company also had a monopoly on running guns, drugs, and a variety of other illegal activities. Extortion was one of them. After all, money is needed to get things up and running smoothly. Today, he had to kidnap a diplomat’s daughter and dispose of her new best friend. The action would hopefully extort ransom money and a change of heart from her father.

 _Such a waste_ , He thought. This Oxton girl seemed to be the very epitome of innocence.

Hanzo didn’t take pleasure in hurting people, not like many of his father’s men that he knew. Unfortunately, it was sometimes necessary. Someone was always at the wrong place at the wrong time he found. But it was either him or them. And he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his father’s rage. His father had been grooming him since he was Genji’s age. It bothered him that father hadn’t even told Genji about their operation. He loved his brother dearly, but deep down he resented him, envied him, for being able to go about life doing as he pleased. Hanzo wanted that. He wanted the adolescence that was stolen from him back.

His phone began to ring and it startled him out of his thoughts. He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen.

Genji.

He debated answering the call. He wasn’t supposed to let anything distract him from the mission. But guilt weighed on him. Guilt about things he’s done. Things his brother Genji would be horrified with. It filled Hanzo with shame every time Genji would look at him with admiration.

He wasn’t the man his brother thought him to be.

He sighed. Hanzo took his earpiece out and carefully put it into the cup holder. He got out of the car and walked around to the back. He had a feeling his vehicle was bugged and the last thing he wanted was a stranger working for his father listening to his conversation.

He answered, pressing the phone to his ear, “Genji?”

His brother answered cheerfully on the other line, “Hanzo! I wanted to know if you were out of work yet. Angela just left for the hospital and I’m bored so maybe you and I coul-"

“Genji, I told you father needed me at work. He needs me to handle an important matter.”

“Why can’t one of those old farts handle it? They’ve been there longer and you’re always at work now. I nev-"

“Genji. I said no.” Hanzo cut him off harshly. It broke his heart to push his brother away but his father was very clear on keeping Genji out of the loop.

“Fine. I am sorry to interrupt your very important work, _brother_.” Genji’s words bit into Hanzo. The call ended before he could respond.

He looked up at the sky. The sun was nearly gone, leaving the sky to be a pinkish purple. It was beautiful, but Hanzo couldn’t enjoy it. He could hardly enjoy anything since he began working for his father. The weight of the things he had done always dragged him down. The only time he felt some type of normal was when he was with his brother. But his illicit activities were beginning to taint that as well.

Perhaps one day he could live a normal life.

He climbed back into the car. He stared blankly at his lap. He put his earpiece back in.

“…-nzo! Sir! Do you copy!? Someone get eyes on him!”

“What?! What is it?!” He nearly screamed into the coms.

“Sir! The target is on the move!”

His head shot up, eyes frantically searching for the girls. Hanzo looked to the place he saw them last, the swings. But they were gone. He looked around, finally spotting them as they inched towards the park exit. He felt his airways constrict. Frustration fueled his heart, which was hammering furiously in his chest. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He couldn’t afford to fail. Not when his father…

His father.

_FUCK!_

The thought of his father made something in Hanzo snap. He roared into the microphone.

“SOMEONE GRAB HER!”

But it was too late. The girls were inching towards a town car.

“DID NO ONE THINK TO COVER THE DRIVER?!”

Radio silence. He watched helplessly as his target drove off. He slammed his hands on the steering wheel in anger, huffing.

His mind raced as he struggled to think of things to tell his father.

_Calm down. Focus._

He took deep breaths to bring his heart rate back down.

“Follow that car.” His voice was shaking. “See where it leads to.”

“But sir- “

“I said follow them. Question me and see where it lands you.”

Silence followed. He sighed. He sat in his car for what seemed like forever when the update came through.

“They went to the hospital. Your brother’s girlfriend is treating the Oxton girl. Apparently, she broke her arm.”

“Is there any way of grabbing the target?”

“No, sir. Too many witnesses. We can’t subdue an entire hospital.”

Hanzo ripped his earpiece out of his ear. He began the drive back to his father. He wasn’t sure if his house even counted as a home anymore. It felt more like a prison, his father speaking to him like a warden would to an inmate. But he supposed any kind of acknowledgment was better than nothing. His stomach filled with dread with every mile he drove. The closer he got to home, the sicker he felt. He barely remembered a time when he felt happy coming home after a long day.

Hanzo saw his father standing in one of the windows of his ridiculously large house. He had a cigar lit. the embers were bright and Hanzo could’ve sworn he saw his father smile.

_He thinks I have her._

A wave of nausea washed over him. He took his time parking the car and climbing out. He adjusted and readjusted his jacket. Nothing he did would impede the inevitability of facing his father. He knew what awaited him. His heart beat in his ears.

He slowly made his way to his father’s study. He knocked three times before listening intently.

“Enter.” His father’s voice commanded from the other side of the door. Hanzo took a deep breath before entering. He gathered as much courage as he could muster. He turned the doorknob and walked in, trying his hardest to display the confidence he did not feel. He took in the sight of his father, emanating power and strength. The guards standing behind him only amplified the intimidation Hanzo felt. His father’s suit was pressed. A green tie hung from his neck and his hair was neatly parted. Silver strands were beginning to make an appearance in his ink black hair. A ring gleamed menacingly on his left hand, a blue stone sitting proudly in the center. Hanzo wondered how he kept the gem so clean. It was probably tedious, especially when his father’s activities almost certainly stained it a darker color.

A redder color.

“Hello, Father.” He said, voice surprisingly even. He met Sojiro’s dark eyes. They were cold and dark, like iron. He commanded with as much force and the same demeanor.

“Hanzo, what news of today’s task? Did you get the girl?”

Hanzo couldn’t bear to make eye contact with his father. Sojiro was quick to notice and rose from his seat behind the mahogany desk. His strides were quick and decisive. In a few short seconds, he was standing in front of his son, nearly toe to toe.

Another deep breath on Hanzo’s part. “Father, I…”

Sojiro knew the words that were going to fall from Hanzo’s lips long before he even had a chance to breathe them into existence.

“You failed.”

Hanzo nodded without hesitation. Shame bloomed in his chest.

The sound of his father’s hand hitting his face echoed. Sojiro’s ring cut into his face. He felt the sting and a drop of blood roll down his cheek. Hanno’s vision blurred. He blinked rapidly to regain composure. His father’s face was calm, but Hanzo wasn’t blind to the quiet fury that lurked in his eyes. That was probably one of the most unnerving characteristics of his father. He could fly into a bloody rage but somehow manage to keep the same, indifferent expression. It was like a demon lurked under the surface.

It terrified Hanzo.

“Do you realize how much went into this? We needed that ransom money. Operations like ours are not cheap, Hanzo. That French diplomat threatens everything this family has built. Taking his daughter was a way to get the money we needed and the way to shut him up. Two birds with one stone. An opportunity like today? It will never happen again” Sojiro paused. “Do you realize how many people we bribed and… disposed of? Do you not feel any sort of obligation? A sense of duty?"

Hanzo bowed his head. “Yes, father.”

“You don’t obviously. You let her go. You wasted the opportunity that was given to you. I did not raise you to be this incompetent. You’re proving to be useless, Hanzo.”

“But Father, Genji called me.” Hanzo raised his eyes and saw his father’s hard eyes soften.

Sojiro ran his hands through his salt and pepper hair. The silver was growing in nicely, and it worried him. Getting old meant the end was near for him. The last thing he wanted was for generations of work to be washed down the drain because he had failed to ensure his son’s competency. Sojiro needed to secure the future of the family business. He couldn’t bear to watch his son tear down an empire from his deathbed.

“Regardless, I have always told you to never lose focus on the task at hand.”

Hanzo nodded once, “Yes, father.”

Sojiro opened his mouth to say something more, but the doors to his study swung open. A wild shock of green hair burst in. Genji stood out in with his flashy clothes. Bright orange and green against the dark suits.

“HANZO! YOU’RE HOME!” He ran and threw his arms around his brother.

Hanzo tried his best to act as if it was all normal, but the guards and the conversation with his father had him on edge. Genji could feel the tension in his brother’s shoulders.

“Are you alright?” Genji pulled away and noticed the cut and bruise forming on Hanzo’s face. “Hey! What happened here?”

“Nothing. Street fight.” Hanzo muttered, his gaze avoiding his father’s eyes.

“Did you win at least?” Genji’s brow was furrowed in concern. Hanzo nodded. But Genji looked at the cut a bit closer, noticing it was still bleeding a little.

“Wait, this looks fresh. Are you sur- “

“Genji, your brother said it was a fight. He is old enough to defend himself.” Sojiro adjusted the ring on his finger. “He simply needs to learn to keep focus.”

Genji looked between them, sighing, and finally giving up. The fire in his eyes was slowly snuffed out.

“Sorry, Father. I worry about my brother is all.”

Sojiro laughed, his eyes twinkling and his mouth curling up. “Ah, come here my son.” He outstretched his arms. Genji made his way over, a wide grin on his face. How dearly he loved his father. Sojiro hugged Genji tightly.

“Genji, never forget how important you are.” Sojiro kissed the top of Genji’s head. Genji squirmed out of his father’s embrace.

“Father! I’m too old for you to keep doing that. I’m grown now!”

“Nonsense! You will always be my little sparrow!” Sojiro laughed once more.

Hanzo felt bile rise in his throat at the interaction. Jealousy began to take root in his heart. It was an ugly feeling. But he felt it. Along with resentment. Resentment at his father for not loving him as he loved Genji. Resentment at Genji for being the favorite without effort.

It was ugly, but he felt it all.

Hanzo walked out of the room, deaf to Genji’s voice calling him back.

* * *

Genji laid in his hammock, staring at the stars through the skylight in his room. He loved being awake during this time. The wee early hours of the morning when the world isn’t quite awake yet. He liked hearing the silence. It was peaceful.

  
But he felt alone. His brother was a lot more distant since he began working with their father. He noticed Hanzo didn’t smile as freely as he used to. They spent less and less time with each other.

  
_Maybe I did something wrong_ , He thought sadly. His eyes left the sky, taking in his surroundings. Posters of sports cars adorned the ceiling. There was a small table he used whenever he bothered to do his homework and the closet door next to it was closed, concealing the mess that lay inside. There were doodles on his wall, masterpieces from when he was 8 years old and aspiring to be like his brother.

Genji sighed, the memory was a bittersweet one.

  
\--  
_“Hanzo?” 8-year-old Genji peeped his head into Hanzo’s room. Hanzo’s shoulder length hair covered his face. He was leaning over his desk, completely engrossed in whatever he was doing. Hanzo didn’t hear Genji’s small footsteps as he crossed into his room and stood behind him, Genji silently watched with curious eyes as Hanzo’s hand shaped whatever image he was drawing on the paper with practiced ease. Not once did Hanzo erase, every stroke and line was made with precision._

_“Why do you do it on paper? Is there something wrong with your tablet?” Genji softly asked, careful not to startle his brother._

_“No. But I really like paper. I don’t know why. I just do.”_

_“Oh.” Genji sat down on the floor next to Hanzo. He saw a loose thread in the carpet and began to pick at it. He wasn’t patient like his brother. The energy was_ always _flowing through him. Sitting still was hard._

_“Hanzo?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“Can we go outside and play?”_

_Hanzo looked down at his baby brother. His scrawny frame reminding him vaguely of a newly hatched chicken. He giggled at the thought._

_“What?” Genji asked._

_“Nothing. We can go after I finish this.”_

_A few minutes of silence passed before Genji began to fidget once more._

_“Hanzo?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“What are you drawing?” Genji looked up._

_Hanzo didn’t answer immediately. His pencil worked furiously, a line here, a line there. He finished the last detail before grunting in satisfaction. He put his pencil down and passed the drawing to Genji. It was a man in a black and purple costume, mask, and everything. The man had a bow and arrow, ready to shoot._

_“Who is he?” Genji took the drawing and gingerly held it in his hands, careful not to wrinkle it._

  
_Hanzo beamed, he was proud of his artistic ability. “He’s a superhero from like a hundred years ago. His name is Hawkeye. He’s blind but he shoots really good.”_

_Genji looked at Hanzo skeptically. “If he’s blind, then how can he shoot? Wait, does he have cybernetic eyes?”_

_Hanzo shook his head, “No I don’t think they had those back then.”_

_“Then how…?”_

_“I don’t know. He’s just cool, okay?”_

_“Okay.” Genji looked at the drawing again before giving it back to Hanzo, who put it away in the desk drawer._

  
_They played for a while before their father called them back inside just before darkness fell. Genji had gone into his room to rest before dinner when he got the idea._

_He made his way into his brother’s room as quietly as he could. Thankfully, Hanzo was in the living room still, talking with Father about joining the art club at school. Genji walked into Hanzo’s room. He spotted what he was looking for sitting in a cup on the desk. He grabbed it and scurried back to his room._

_Genji’s heart was racing. He had stolen his brother’s drawing pencil. He was excited to see if he could perhaps draw as well as him._

_The wall called to him, a large blank canvas. Perfect for practice. He began drawing miscellaneous things. None of them coming out as beautifully as Hanzo’s artworks. He felt frustration bubble in his stomach. Hanzo made it look so easy. He heard his father’s footsteps making their way down the hall and Genji scrambled to hide what he had done. But it was no use. When his father entered his room, it was the first thing Sojiro saw._

_That night, Sojiro took all of Hanzo’s pencils and snapped them in half. Hanzo’s cries fell on deaf ears. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Sojiro sent both of them to their rooms._

_Genji had pocketed the shards of broken pencil and waited for their father to go to sleep before sharpening them. He worked all night to get the pencil shards nice and sharp, a feat that proved to be difficult when done with safety scissors. But he did it anyway, the heaviness of guilt motivating him to finish._

_He knocked on Hanzo’s door before entering. Hanzo’s eyes were red and his face was blotchy from crying himself to sleep the night before. Genji got on top of Hanzo’s bed._

_“Hanzo?”_

_“What, Genji?” Hanzo snapped back._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Hanzo’s sniffles were the only thing Genji could hear besides his own breathing._

_“Hanzo?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Do you hate me?”_

_A beat passed._

_“No.”_

_“I fixed it.” Genji scooted closer to the lump on the bed._

_“Fixed what?” Hanzo sat up, the covers falling off him and revealing the snot encrusted shirt he had slept with. Wiping away boogers took precedence over cleanliness._

_“Your pencil.” Genji held out the pencils he had sharpened. He had sharpened the broken ends. Out of a single pencil came two. Well two and a half. One of the shards he had sharpened ended up having two points to draw with._

_Hanzo smiled sadly. But he took the pencils regardless. “Thank you, brother.”_

_Genji smiled from ear to ear, happy his brother and idol didn’t hate him._

_But Hanzo never drew anything again after that._  
\--

Genji sighed. It was a memory he wasn’t sure he wanted. But he knew he couldn’t simply forget it. He rolled out of his hammock and walked to the small table where his phone was charging. He picked it up and held it in his hand, pondering.

_Angela should be home from her shift by now…_

He debated calling her. Genji knew she needed as much rest as she could get but he didn’t trust anyone like he trusted her. And he needed to talk to someone.

He settled for sending her a quick text.

_**Genji:** Are you home?_

He waited patiently. His fingers drummed rhythmically on his desk. It took her a few minutes to reply.

 ** _Angela:_** _Y_ es. _Just walked in the door._

Genji smiled. Another text came in.

 ** _Angela:_ ** _Are you okay?_

It caught him off guard. It was a simple question with a variety of answers, each tinted with various amounts of truth.

 _ **Genji:** _ _Yeah! ^.^ See you at school?_

This time, she didn’t reply for hours. He assumed she had fallen asleep. He didn’t mind. He was proud of her for working so hard at making the world a better place. It was funny, he was a fighter and she was a healer. A nice contrast and he wondered how they fit together so seamlessly. He admired her for her work ethic. He would be a mess if he lost both parents. He was thankful for at least having his father.

Genji wandered back to his hammock, swimming in his thoughts. The swinging of the hammock gently lulled him into a deep slumber.

The sun had risen by the time she replied with a quick apology for falling asleep and a promise to see him in class like usual.

* * *

Hanzo had snuck out that night. He couldn’t sleep with the faces of those he had cut down haunting his dreams. He was numb to the day’s events. Hanzo learned to compartmentalize things. A handy skill for people like him. Sometimes, the guilt would seep through and yank him down into an ocean of self-loathing, other times, he was just fine, sailing along in his metaphorical boat. He wondered how different life would have been if his mother were still alive.

Perhaps he wouldn’t even be in the business he was in.

The roof was a wonderful place to think. He quickly learned which shingles were safe to step on and which were a surefire way to fall and painfully break several bones. Although the danger was obvious, it was comforting to Hanzo. For once he had control over the danger he was in. He avoided thinking about the fact that his father would willingly send him into risky situations.

The thought formed quicker than he could stop it,

_Does my life mean so little to him?_

He scolded himself for having such thoughts.

_No, he loves you._

But it felt like a lie. He looked up to the sky instead. The stars offering solace. None of it really mattered in the long run. Nothing did, nothing compared to that light.

He didn’t sleep much anymore. He used his free time to think. But his father was right, he wasn’t raised to be incompetent.

So, he studied. He pulled out his phone and looked over the files of the diplomat’s daughter. He would prove to his father that he wasn’t useless. He would prove that he was good enough. He looked at the schedules and routines. He opened a new file and wrote down all that he had remembered from earlier. He wrote down the mistakes he made and the flaws in his father’s plan. Hanzo worked until sunrise. Devising a new plan took a lot out of him, but he was proud of it. He hoped his father would be too.

Unfortunately, his father was right in a sense. An opportunity like today was almost certainly unlikely to happen again. But Hanzo was determined. He would wait for the right moment to strike, even if he had to do so alone.

He carefully climbed off the roof and crept to his room.

The sun was streaming into his bedroom window. It was peaceful. Hanzo almost felt like his old self. Sleep was beginning to weigh on his eyes. He fell asleep with a smile on his face and a single thought on his mind.

_I’ll show him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Organ- [Brother](https://youtu.be/4fq_r2mqwEI)


	8. My Only Friend

 

“Goodnight,” Amélie called out to her driver. But the man didn’t respond. They usually didn’t. As she climbed out of the car, she took notice of how brightly lit the house was.

 _Why do they need so many lights? Such a waste._ She thought to herself. Since she began spending time with Lena and her family, Amélie had begun to be mindful of her spending. Energy, money, everything. Being friends with Lena was good for Amélie. She saw herself growing as a person with her. A smile danced on her face as she entered the house. All was quiet and still, as usual. She felt the day’s happiness draining from her with every step she took.

_“Where were you?”_

His voice caught her off guard. She had come in late, but her father never seemed to show any concern for her comings and goings. The door was open, an unusual sight. Amélie made her way to the entrance but knew better than to set a toe over the threshold. She found him sitting at his desk in his study, working on yet another speech. He didn’t bother sparing a glance in her direction. The soft light emanating from the lamp on his desk did not belong on his harsh features. Years of frowning and fake smiles had taken his youth from him, but he did not look any less intimidating. Sometimes Amélie worried about becoming like her father.

She stood ramrod straight in the doorway. Amélie replied, “I was with my friend and her family. She went to the hospi-”

 _“In French, Amélie. You know I do not approve of you speaking in such a vulgar language.”_ Her father’s cold demeanor was nothing she wasn’t used to, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt her.

_“I’m sorry, papa.”_

_“And remember you do not have any friends. They are only associating with you because they know you have money.”_

Amélie held back the urge to scoff. Although she was financially secure to say the least, when she was with her father, she always felt like she had less than nothing. No amount of riches in the world could fill the space between them. Amélie knew Lena was her friend because Lena was friends with everyone. Lena’s family treated her as one of their own, even after the incident with her bodyguard. There was no way that Lena was only friends with her because of money.

 _Right?_ Amélie thought to herself, but the doubt had begun to take hold in the back of her mind.

_“Yes, papa.”_

Amélie’s father sighed. “ _I know about your little friends. Amélie, if you want to be a world-class dancer, you really should mingle with more… refined people. She only wants you for your money. I bet she is itching to ask you for expensive gifts. Your mother wouldn’t want you running around with that gold-digging street rat, Alena, now would she?”_

 _“Lena,”_ Amélie mumbled.

 _“Speak up, Amélie. You know I do not like it when you mumble.”_ Her father finally looked up from his work. Amélie’s heartbeat picked up, the rush of courage coming from someplace she didn’t know she had. Her father quietly put the pen down, hard eyes finally taking notice of her presence.

She cleared her throat. “ _Her name is Lena. Not Alena.”_

A cold laugh came from his mouth. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. _“Oh, Amélie, darling. I do not care if her name is Alena, Lena, or what have you. She is as insignificant as a flea on a dog,”_ He stood from his chair, _“And I will not have my daughter socializing with someone who crawled out of some dirty hole in the street. Is that clear, Amélie?”_

She felt her body go numb. Lena was her only friend and she felt so welcome with her family. Amélie couldn’t imagine her life without her best friend, especially when Lena made her feel at home and warm.

 _How could he expect that of me?_ Amélie‘s mind began to race. She didn’t register her father approaching her.

 _“Amélie, I asked you a question.”_ He had made his way to the entrance of his study. Her father stared straight ahead. Although they were facing different directions, Amélie prayed he wouldn’t take notice of her eyes beginning to water.

 _“Yes, father,”_ Amélie answered. Much to her surprise, her voice didn’t falter beneath the weight of her sorrows.

_“Yes, what?”_

_“I won’t see her anymore.”_ She felt her heart breaking bit by bit with each word.

 _“Good. You know, it is not just your reputation I am saving. What would people say about your father if they hear of your… adventures with that garbage?”_ He patted her head and walked away. _“Goodnight, Amélie.”_

Amélie didn’t respond. Her insides felt hollow and cold. The numbness was taking the tips of her fingers. She made her way up the winding, marble staircase and down the seemingly endless hallway.

Gold frames containing priceless paintings hung on the wall. The floors were polished, ceramic tile. Crystal chandeliers lit the hallway. She finally arrived at her room at the end of the hall, resisting the urge to slam the white wooden door. It's trimming in gold.

Her room was dark, thankfully. Amélie didn’t think she could handle another second of unnecessary bright lights. Especially not with the anguish she felt in her chest. Her eyes burned and the lump in her throat was making every breath increasingly painful. She closed the door and backed into it. She slid down to the floor and hugged her legs close to her chest. The tears began to spill and she let her forehead rest on her knees. She imagined herself to be a bird. Amélie wanted so desperately to be able to fly away from her golden cage and be with her best and only friend in the world. Lena was nothing like her father said. She didn’t want to be with Amélie simply because of money. Amélie had offered many times to buy her new clothes or new shoes. But Lena would always refuse.

 _“Oh, they have a few more miles in them.”_   She’d say about her ratty shoes. Money was tight in their house. But never once did any of them accept a dime. Her father was wrong about them.

But how could she defy her father? Defy the man who bends world leaders to his will. How could she? Amélie felt frustrated. She nearly screamed. A whimper escaped her mouth instead. She longed to be brave like Lena or loyal like Fareeha. Winston was brilliant beyond her abilities and she wished for innocence like Hana and Lúcio’s. Not a care in the world.

 _I am not like them,_ she thought bitterly. Amélie sat in the dark, talking herself up but her father’s words tore her down immediately. He had a way of building her up and tearing her down simultaneously. No one could make her feel as isolated as he did.

Amélie slammed her fist on the plush carpet in frustration. _I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t._

She couldn’t bear to lose Lena.

But she couldn’t muster the courage to defy her father either.

* * *

Lena’s arm was sore, even with Dr. Ziegler’s nanites. They had worked wonders despite the fact they were still in the early developmental stages. But it felt good to be somewhat back to normal. She bounded happily to class, excited to show Amélie how much better she felt. Amélie had left just before Dr. Ziegler had begun the treatment and didn’t get to see the warm glow from the huge machine that sat bedside. Apart from showing off her arm, she was excited to see Amélie for a different reason. She had a happy announcement to share.

She plopped down in her seat. Her foot impatiently tapping on the floor. The guards began their usual routine. And her heart soared with excitement when she saw Amélie enter the classroom. But it quickly died down when she noticed there was something off about Amélie. Lena’s smile melted off her face and worry made its home where her excitement once lived. Lena held her breath and watched from the corner of her eye as Amélie took her seat.

“Amé? Are you okay?” Lena whispered. Her body felt like lead when Amélie only regarded her with the cold and familiar glare like the ones she used to give when they first met. “Did I do something wrong?” Lena began to panic.

No answer.

Class began and Lena couldn’t find it in herself to concentrate. Nothing stuck despite her efforts to remain attentive. She wracked her brain, retracing the last few days, trying desperately to find out what she could have possibly done wrong.

 _Maybe she wanted more Jell-O. Maybe she was mad that we started playing on the swings instead of working._ Lena stood abruptly from her seat.

“May I go to the nurse right quick, Mr. Torbs? My arm doesn’t feel quite right” She stumbled from her seat, blushing badly from embarrassment. Lena stopped moving when Torbjörn spoke once more.

“Take Amélie with you. Class is about to end. She can help you carry your things.”

“No, sir. It’s fin-“ Lena began.

“Yes, sir.” Amélie stood and picked up Lena’s bag for her.

 _“Mademoiselle”_ One of Amélie’s guards appeared beside her and began to protest.

 _“Captain, would you like my father to find out how you like taking sips from that flask in your jacket while you’re on the job? Guarding the diplomat’s only daughter?”_ There was a dangerous look in Amélie’s eyes that frightened Lena. Although she didn’t speak a lick of French, Lena was smart enough to know the threat in Amélie’s tone.

The guard sighed and scratched his brow. _“Just this once. Then I’m resigning. I will not have some scrawny brat blackmailing me.”_

Amélie and Lena left, the captain in tow. When the other guards began to object, the captain whispered something in French and not another word was spoken. The girls passed a bathroom and Amélie quickly shoved Lena in. The guards watched helplessly as the door swung closed.

“Oi! What are you playing at?” Lena no longer felt despair. Anger had replaced that.

“My father forbade them from ever following me into a lavatory. Regardless if it was family friendly,” Amélie placed her and Lena’s things onto the counter. She sighed, “I have something to tell you.”

Lena raised her eyes expectantly. “Yeah? Spit it out.”

“I came home and my father was waiting for me,” Amélie swallowed. She felt the bit of courage she had slipping away. “And he was not happy, to say the least, about the company I have been keeping.” She trailed off.

“What do you mean by that?” Lena asked quietly. Amélie saw the hurt in her eyes just as she lowered her gaze.

“He doesn’t think I should be hanging out with someone,” She swallowed thickly, “Someone like you.”

“Like me?” Lena looked as if she was about to cry.

“He doesn’t thin-“

“Doesn’t think I‘m good enough to be your friend? I’m too poor, right?” Lena’s voice cracked. Tears dripped down her face and onto the little grey tiles.

“Lena, I-“ Amélie felt the situation escaping her control. she felt helpless and small. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Lena by making her feel that she was less than her.

But Lena wasn’t having it. She grabbed her bag and brushed past Amélie.

“Lena, wait please.” The lump in her throat barely allowed her plea to escape.

Lena stopped by the door for a moment. She was crying softer than Amélie was. “I was excited to show you how much better my arm had gotten,” Lena took a shuddering breath and turned to face Amélie. Her gaze lifted and she met her teary eyes. She took a shuddering breath, “And I wanted to ask you to dinner at my house because today is my birthday, Amélie.”

It was difficult, but she turned and left. Amélie’s heart was heavy with grief and frustration. Frustration at her father for being the way he was and yanking her only friend away from her, frustrated at Lena because she didn’t let her explain, and frustrated at herself for not having the courage to live the way she wanted to. Amélie slammed her fists on the counter, not giving a damn about the pain. She wanted a friend and when she finally found someone who cared for her despite her sharp edges, her father took her away. Her condescending father. She craved for his attention and any sort of affection from her but the cost was too high this time.

Amélie called her driver. She couldn’t bear to even try and think about class and school after the day’s fiasco. “I’m not feeling well.” Was the only explanation she offered when her father called to ask why she had left school before it was over. Her father’s sudden interest in her life would have made her feel happy on any other day, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything beyond her heartbreak.

When she got to her room, she threw herself on the bed and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

 

Lena’s eyes were still red from earlier. She curled up under the covers of her bed. Putting on her favorite set of Wonder Woman pajamas didn’t alleviate any of the hurt she felt. There was a soft knocking at the door, which startled Lena a bit. She quickly tried to wipe away the fresh tears in her eyes before answering.

“Come in!” Lena was impressed with the steadiness in her voice.

Fareeha stepped through the door. Grey sweatpants, and a plain black T-shirt on, her hair tied up in a messy half bun. “Are you all right, champ?”

Lena sniffled, “Yeah. Don’t feel good is all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Fareeha sat down on the floor, her back pressed to Lena’s missile bed. Her legs crossed at the ankles.

“No. I don’t want to yet.” Lena buried her head deeper into her cocoon. Fareeha sighed.

“Would you like some company?” Fareeha didn’t want to push her boundaries and make Lena feel suffocated.

Small fingers emerged from under the covers and patted Fareeha’s shoulder. “Please stay.” Lena’s voice was muffled, but she could still hear the sadness.

“I thought Angela and I could be friends, regardless of what happened,” Fareeha began, “I thought having her as a friend would be just as good as being something more, but she wasn’t at her table at lunch today like normal. Not even Genji was there.”

Lena could hear the hurt creeping into Fareeha’s voice. It was comforting, in a sense, to know Fareeha trusted Lena enough to show how she hurt, how things affected her. How she bled.

“I know I don’t have the evidence and I know it’s been less than 24 hours, but I get the distinct feeling,” She swallowed, “I get the feeling that she’s avoiding me, you know?”

Lena poked her head out from under the covers. Fareeha now sat cross-legged, facing Lena’s bed. There was pain and hurt in Fareeha’s eyes. The walls were crumbling and Lena wasn’t sure how to help. She climbed out of bed and joined Fareeha on the floor. Lena tucked her legs in and sat facing Fareeha.

“You’ve been crying?” Fareeha’s voice came out a pitch higher.

Lena sniffled, “Yeah. I don’t think Amélie wants to be my friend anymore.” She trailed off, too hurt to say anymore.

“How do you know that?” There was anger in her voice.

“She told me. I think she went home after class but she told me that her dad told her I was too poor to be her friend.”

Fareeha hummed. She reached out and held Lena’s hand in her own, brushing back the messy locks of brown hair out of her splotchy face, “So it’s not her that said it, it was her father?”

Sniffle. “Yeah.”

Sighing, Fareeha scooted over to Lena’s side, prompting her to put her head on her lap. She began to play with Lena’s hair the way her own mother would whenever she was having a bad day, “I’m sorry, Ya sghaiyara.”

“I don’t want to lose my best friend,” Lena whispered, almost too quietly for Fareeha to hear. But then she felt Lena’s shoulders shake and heard more sniffles.

“Hey, hey, it’s all going to be okay.” Fareeha began to pat Lena’s back as reassuringly as she could. But it felt wrong. It felt like she was lying. Her situation with Angela was discouraging, to say the least and sitting there telling Lena it was all going to be okay despite the fact she herself didn’t believe it. False hope was always worse than misery.

“She’s my best friend and I don’t want her to stop talking to me.” Lena’s sobs were getting stronger.

“What are you going to do about it then, Lena?” Fareeha challenged. In a sense, she was asking herself the same question.

“I don’t know what to do.” Lena sat up, hopeless and desperate.

“Well, what do you want to do? What does your heart tell you to do?” Fareeha asked.

Lena bowed her head, calming down a bit as she thought about it.

_What do I want to do?_

“I want to talk to her.” Lena’s voice had a steady confidence that Fareeha wished she had. She had no clue what to do about Angela.

“Let’s go, get ready.” Fareeha jumped to her feet.

“Wait where?” Lena scrambled to get off the ground, “And what about my birthday dinner that Reinhardt has been trying to keep secret?”

Fareeha threw her head back and laughed, “Do you want cake or your best friend?”

Lena thought for a second, weighing the consequences of each choice.

“My god, come on! Reinhardt pushed your dinner until tomorrow because Hana noticed you were mopey and told him, now let’s go, Oxton!” Fareeha giggled when she saw the look on Lena’s face. She ran to her room and grabbed a sweater off the hook on her wall.

The fact that Lena was downstairs properly dressed and ready to go before Fareeha was proof of how ready she was to fight for her friendship.

“Do you know where she usually is today?” Fareeha asked. Although the girls had been spending a considerable amount of time together, there were some days when Fareeha noticed Amélie was absent. She never thought to ask where she had gone until now.

Lena nodded, “Yeah. She’s at that posh ballet studio. She has a recital coming up.”

* * *

They had taken Reinhardt’s car. It wasn’t an old model, but it wasn’t the newest one in town. Lena was lightheaded, her nerves working overtime in her body.

 _What will I say? Will she listen? What if she agrees with him?_ Her negative thoughts and doubts were beginning to get the best of her.

“Lena,” Fareeha’s voice brought her back to the present, “Lena, relax. It will all work out.”

“What if it doesn’t? What if she agrees with her dad and thinks I’m not good enough?” Lena’s stomach was a swirling storm of unease. Her heart was in her throat, which made swallowing a difficult task.

“Then she never deserved your friendship in the first place,” Fareeha said simply. There was a sudden calm about her that Lena noticed. It felt as if Fareeha had finally made her peace with something. They pulled up to the studio far too soon for Lena’s taste. The butterflies in her stomach felt more like roaring lions.

“Are you ready?” Fareeha asked as she parked the car. She left the engine running just in case Lena wanted to go home.

Lena paused. She glanced inside the studio, the large windows allowing for the world to take a glimpse at the dancers inside. She spotted a flash of a familiar face and what little courage she had nearly washed away.

“I used to be afraid of bugs,” Fareeha began, “Not butterflies or anything like that. I mean like centipedes and roaches. The ugly ones.” She threw her head back in laughter, “I remember sitting next to my mother in her office one day when I saw a centipede crawling towards me. I screamed so loud, my mother jumped up with her rifle in hand and she threw me behind her. She flipped her desk and used it as cover. Everything went flying.

“When she saw there was no intruder or real danger, she lowered her gun and asked me what was scaring me so terribly. I pointed at the bug on the floor, crying and shaking. I was so scared,” Fareeha had a sad smile on her face, “I remember she laughed and shook her head. I thought she was laughing at me at first until she told me that she feared the same bugs when she was younger.”

Fareeha gripped the steering wheel, sighing, “She picked up the centipede with her bare hand and she said, ‘Habibti, don’t be afraid. Remember, you are bigger than they are. They are more scared of you than you are of them.’

“So, don’t forget Lena, they’re always more afraid of you,” Fareeha said, reaching over and ruffling Lena’s already unruly hair. Perhaps it was Fareeha’s gentle voice or the understanding in her eyes, but all of Lena’s apprehension melted away.

 _They’re always more afraid,_ Lena thought, exiting the car. She walked towards the studio with confidence. Not an ounce of fear in her body. 

* * *

 

“Again!” The instructor shouted. Amélie’s muscles felt like they were on fire, her long-sleeved leotard felt like it was welded to her skin by her sweat, and she was sure her feet had begun to bleed, but her face remained neutral. She was determined to earn the lead role. The pain would be worth the satisfaction. She took a deep breath and the music began again for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Her body moved with ease, it was muscle memory for her. Her head was clear, her arms and feet one with the delicate beat.

_I’m too poor, right?_

The words rang in her ears, she could see Lena’s face, the hurt. She stumbled and fell out of sync with the music.

“Amélie.” The instructor was losing her patience with her, “Amélie, do you need one of the girls to do your part for you?”

She saw movement in the corner of her eye. Several of the dancers had stood from their seats, inching closer, hoping to be picked. Amélie held back a snarl.

_None of these rat faced girls are good enough to take my place_

“No, I can do this.” She took her start position again. Spite fueled her grace and poise. The music began again and this time, she maintained focus. She felt insulted that the other dancers thought themselves to be as skilled as she. Amélie was above them all and she worked hard for her position. No one was going to take that from her. She had lost too much that day already.

The instructor clapping coupled with the other dancers’ sighs of disappointment made her feel high. She loved the validation. There was a difference between value and validation. She knew she was talented, her hard work only served to increase her skill. But the cheers, the envious sighs, it gave her a rush. It made her feel…

Alive.

“There she is!” The instructor was beaming with pride. There weren’t many students like Amélie. In fact, she couldn’t think of a single student who had the same talent or work ethic as Amélie did. “Go sit and rest. Bandage those feet before you run through the set again. Everyone else, places!”

The other dancers grumbled as they stood from their seats. The instructor always practiced the lead separate from the rest. It always created a rift between the dancers but the instructor couldn’t care less. _“Competition breeds excellence.”_   She’d say.

Amélie bit back a groan as she sat down on the hard wooden bench. It felt amazing to be off her feet after the seemingly endless run-throughs. Her slippers were soaked with sweat, the points had a steadily growing splotch of blood on them.

 _“Merde.”_ She mumbled. Wincing, she gingerly peeled off her slippers. A toenail had fallen off. Small price to pay for greatness. She wiped the blood off and bandaged her toes, popping each of them and sighing with relief. Amélie felt a chilly draft flow from the entrance but didn’t bother to glance at whoever it was that had walked through.

She was about to put her slippers back on when suddenly, someone grabbed her hand and yanked her off her seat.

“Hey!” Amélie exclaimed. She was about to scream for her guards when she recognized the familiar wild brown hair. “Lena!” Her heart was bursting with joy and relief.

“Come on, before they figure out you-“

“HEY!” the guards posted by the front door finally took notice of Amélie’s absence. The guards had been in a huddle by the entrance. They had been too engrossed placing their bets on the night’s soccer match to realize Lena had come in.

“Shite! Is there a back door?” Lena felt cornered as they ran down a long hallway with several doors. There wasn’t enough time for them to open every door looking for an exit. Amélie took the lead, holding Lena’s hand like her life depended on it.

“This way.” Amélie opened a door at the end of the hallway, which led them to a pitch black room, save for the bright neon exit sign. Lena ran forwards, Amélie in tow and ran outside. The bitter cold washed over them. The door slammed behind them and they quickly made their way down the alleyway. They heard the door burst open and gruff voices barking commands into their wrist microphones. The guards were hot on their heels. Longs legs and years of training gave them an edge.

But as Lena ran out into the bustling street, she realized the advantage she herself had. King’s Row was her home. She fought for life every day on these streets. She knew them like the back of her hand.

“Come on!” Lena pulled them into the throng of people. They were small enough that they blended in perfectly between the puffy jackets and the tall pedestrians.

Lena looked back to see their pursuers split up into two groups. One going in the opposite direction and the other in theirs. They took formation and began to carefully comb through the omnics and people in the crowd. Lena tugged at Amélie’s hand and guided her down a familiar alleyway. It led to what used to be one of Lena’s favorite hideouts.

They scurried down the alleyway, ducking behind a dumpster when the guards passed. Amélie put a hand over her mouth to muffle her breathing to some degree. One of the guards stopped to flashed a light into the dark. They heard the crunching of his footsteps coming closer. Lena’s blood was rushing furiously in her ears. Amélie focused on calming her breathing, but she felt a nervous giggle begin to build in her throat. It felt like they were playing an intense game of hide and seek.

He was getting closer to their dumpster. His light flashed over the tip of Lena’s foot. She resisted the urge to yank her foot back, knowing it would give them away if she did.

 _“They are not here,”_ Amélie heard him say in French to his team. They quietly sighed in relief when he walked away. They didn’t realize how tense they were until they burst into a fit of giggles. Lena stood and helped Amélie to her feet. They calmly walked until they reached a rusty ladder that hung a good 2 meters off the ground. Lena let go of Amélie’s hand and stood under it.

“Come on, I’ll give you a boost.” Lena knelt and laced her fingers together. Amélie looked up doubtfully, “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“I’ve done this loads of times with Winston and Hana. It’s cake.” Lena’s easy smile settled some of Amélie’s worries. She took a deep breath and ran at Lena, feet landing into Lena’s hand. She felt Lena push her high up and she almost didn’t catch the bottom rung out. She wasn’t expecting Lena to have such strength for such a small girl.

“Woah, you’re not wearing shoes!” Lena exclaimed from the ground. Amélie looked down at her, heart sort of skipping a beat at the genuine worry in Lena’s voice.

“I was kidnapped from practice, _chérie._ Shoes were the last thing on my mind.” Amélie smiled and kept climbing. It felt nice to be cared for. People cared for her, but out of obligation. Lena had no reason to care like she did, and yet…

“Wait, are your feet bleeding too?!” There was alarm in Lena’s voice. Amélie stopped climbing and looked down again. Lena was staring at her hands horrified. They were spotted with Amélie’s blood.

“It happened during practice. It's normal.” Amélie watched as Lena sighed and shook her head. she mumbled something under her breath but Amélie was too far to hear what was said. She wondered how Lena planned to get on the ladder with no one to boost her when she saw Lena push a wooden crate a few feet from the ladder. Amélie squinted. She couldn’t see the logic behind putting the crate a few feet in front rather than putting it directly beneath it. But that’s when Lena took a deep breath and broke into a run. She jumped onto the crate with two feet together and the box acted as a springboard for her. She had enough force behind her that she successfully gripped the bottom rung Lena winced slightly. Her arm still wasn’t completely healed, but she held on regardless. Amélie’s eyebrows raised in surprise. She was impressed.

Lena looked up at her smiling, “Well? Keep going. There’s a lovely view up top.”

She waited for Lena to be right behind her before climbing any further.

When she reached the top, she only saw the red brick of the building along with a few air conditioning units. There was nothing but empty sky to be seen from where she was standing. Amélie frowned in confusion, wondering if perhaps she and Lena had different ideas on what a view was when she felt warm fingers slip in between her own cold ones.

“Come on.” Lena guided her carefully between slabs of tar that were sticking up from beneath their feet. Even though she had her eyes glued to the ground, Amélie still stumbled a few times. But Lena wouldn’t let her fall.

“Look,” Lena gently nudged Amélie to look up, “It never gets old.”

The sight stole a sigh from her lungs. All of London was on display for them. The sky was too dense with clouds for there to be any stars, but the twinkling lights from street lamps and stoplights made the city look like a glittering galaxy. The wind blew and Amélie stretched her arms out and closed her eyes. She enjoyed feeling the wind blow between her fingers. She felt cold, but it was a comfortable cold. The kind one feels when they feel as if they could live in the moment forever.

She felt warm, suddenly. And it all smelled like chamomile leaves and Lena’s house. She opened her eyes to find Lena’s brown jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

“What about you?” Amélie asked. She noticed Lena was only wearing sweatpants and a baggy waffle henley.

But Lena just shrugged, “I’m used to the cold. And I doubt that thing you have on is keeping you warm.”

Amélie hummed and hugged the coat tighter to her body. She inhaled and smiled.

_Home._

“Do you…” Lena began. But she chewed on her bottom lip nervously. She was afraid to ask something.

“I think my dad… is wrong.” Amélie swallowed. Going against him, even in secret, was completely new and terrifying for her. “I want to be your friend. I don’t think you are the worthless street rat he makes you out to be.”

“He said I was a street rat?” Lena asked softly. There was something in her voice that broke a bit of Amélie’s heart.

She nodded.

“Do you think I’m a street rat? Honestly.” Lena looked directly at Amélie’s eyes. There was fear, but she refused to look away. Amélie shook her head, “No.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me today? Like normal?” Lena paused, “If you don’t agree with him then why did you ignore me for most of class today?”

“Fear, _chérie,”_ Amélie sighed, “I have never gone against my father. It’s strange, even now, going against him.”

“Amé, if you don’t want to be my friend, and if it’s too risky for you. I understa-“

Amélie put her hand over Lena’s mouth, effectively silencing her, “I have decided, he will no longer tell me how to live, especially not when he is so absent from my life.” She paused, “And I will not lose my best friend.”

Lena’s grin spread across her face. She threw her arms around Amélie, earning a grunt of surprise from her.

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday, _chérie_.” Amélie sighed. Lena pulled away.

“No no no. It wasn’t your fault. But trust me, having my best friend back is the best present in the world. Better than cake I think.” Lena chuckled their sadness from earlier completely washed away.

They stayed on the roof for another hour before climbing back down and making their way to the studio where a less than pleased squad of guards awaited. Amélie hugged Lena one last time before sending her off. They both felt at ease, despite Amélie’s posse sporting angry faces. Lena made her way back to Fareeha, who had fallen asleep watching a holovid about a talking snowman and an ice queen.

“How’d it go?” Fareeha asked, wiping the drool from her cheek.  Lena simply smiled and fist bumped Fareeha. Reinhardt gave them a knowing smile when they came home

* * *

"Goodnight." She called out to the driver, not giving a damn if he replied or not. She sat through her father scolding her, tuning him out for most of it. nodding and agreeing at the appropriate times. She practically skipped to her room.

She lay in bed that night. For the first time in what felt like forever, Amélie fell asleep with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phantogram- [My Only Friend](https://youtu.be/XCaq-uGzxX0)
> 
>  
> 
> [Me House](http://hellaclassyfabandsassy.tumblr.com)


	9. I Gotta Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. it me.  
> School is starting so you can expect more frequent updates because i love to procrastinate. :)  
> Come holla at me  
> [Click here for dank memes](https://hellaclassyfabandsassy.tumblr.com)

Fareeha had been grinning from ear to ear for most of the morning. It was the weekend and Reinhardt had sent her to Angela Zeigler’s office with flowers and a cake as a thank you for helping Lena get back to her usual shenanigans. Fareeha sped through the streets and narrowly missed running the red lights on her way to the hospital.

But as she stood outside Angela’s door, she felt her excitement morph into anxiety in her stomach. She shrugged and rolled her shoulders, trying to alleviate some of the tension. She balanced the cake on the crook of her elbow and raised her hand to knock, but stopped.

_Should I have worn a different shirt? Does my hair look okay? Is she even here?_

Doubt began to cloud her thoughts.

The door swung open suddenly and tired blue eyes met hers. They went wide with surprise.

“Fareeha!” Angela exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“Hey! Uh, I’m just here to see you. I mean, not see you, see you. I mean like-“ Fareeha stopped her rambling when Angela started to quietly giggle.

“I was just thinking of Lena. How is she doing?” Angela’s smiled.

Fareeha nodded and shrugged, the motion almost sending the cake tumbling to the ground. Both reached for the cake and their hands overlapped beneath it.

“Oh,” Angela let out a breathless laugh, “I assume this is for me?”

She felt the tips of her ears and her cheeks burn, “Yeah. Reinhardt baked it. It’s pretty good.”

“Come in then. We will both have some.” Angela took the cake and grabbed Fareeha’s hand, leading her through the entrance to her office.

Her reports were stacked neatly. Manilla folders peeked out from several vertical file cabinets on rails beside Angela’s desk. Her trash bin was full of empty coffee cups, pens that had run out of ink, and balled up pieces of paper. An L shaped desk was pushed against the corner. Two chairs in front and a swivel chair behind it. The room smelled of coffee, hospital sanitizer, and lavender. Fareeha wondered where the lavender was coming from when she spotted a candle burning beside Angela’s holoscreens. It was neat, methodical. But there were small things out of place. A crumpled report that didn’t quite land in the garbage bin. A ring on the wood of the desk left over from Angela’s morning coffee. Little things. Little things that made Fareeha feel a bit warmer. Endearing things.

“In my country, we call this ‘ _Fika’_ ” Angela pulled out the chairs from under her desk, gesturing for Fareeha to sit.

“ _Fika,_ ” Fareeha repeated as she sat down. She began to drum her fingers on her thigh, a habit she picked up from her mother. She watched as Angela began to brew coffee.

“It was meant to be afternoon tea, but it has become a custom to greet guests with tea or cake or both,” Angela explained. She opened a cabinet revealing an array of mugs and thermoses. She pulled two out. One with a little dove and another with a quote Fareeha couldn’t quite make out.

“Do you have time to sit and chat? Weren’t you on your way to do something when you opened the door?” Fareeha moved to stand but Angela zipped across the room and gently touched Fareeha on the arm, easing her back into her seat.

“I have time. I’m on my break and I was on my way to get a snack cake from the vending machine when you came.” Angela moved back to the coffee machine and began preparing her cup. “Believe me, I much rather prefer Reinhardt’s cake and your company.”

A small smile danced on Fareeha’s lips. She began to cut into the cake with the knife Reinhardt packed, producing two even slices.

“How do you take your coffee?” Angela asked over her shoulder.

“Don’t judge. But I like a little bit of coffee with my cream and sugar.” Fareeha replied.

“Want to know something?” Angela smiled, eyebrow raised, “I like mine the same way. I love sweet coffee.”

They both laughed. Angela had two paper plates tucked under her arm which Fareeha carefully took from her along with her mug.

“That’s an interesting mug, Angela.”

Angela looked down at her mug, ‘ _Badass Babes Club’_

“Oh! Hah, yes. My friend, Mei. She has a matching one. We got them before she went on a mission for Overwatch.” Angela sipped her coffee, trying to hide her blush.

“What did she do when they disbanded?” Fareeha asked, curious.

“Well she went a year before the crisis ended,” Something shadowed Angela’s face, “But no one has heard from her or her team since they left.”

Fareeha took a sip of her coffee.

“It’s perfect.” She murmured, “Thank you.”

“You never did answer my question,” Angela said, taking her slice from Fareeha.

“About Lena?” Fareeha smiled, it was hard for her not to whenever she spoke to Angela, “Oh, she’s back to normal. She says her arm is sore from time to time but it doesn’t stop her from kidnapping people.”

“Kidnapping?” Angela cocked her head.

“Shit!” Fareeha cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

Fareeha laughed, “I think we forgot forks.”

Angela laughed as well, partly because Fareeha’s laugh was contagious and because the butterflies in her belly tickled, “I guess we will have to use our hands because I am far too lazy to walk across the grounds and get forks.”

“I’m alright with that.” Fareeha shrugged and smiled. Being friends with Angela was rather enjoyable and she was happy.

For a moment.

“Were you avoiding me, Angela?” Fareeha asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Angela sighed, putting her coffee and cake to the side. She took her hair out of the ponytail it was in and Fareeha watched as it tumbled down her shoulders like a golden waterfall. Angela took the mug and plate out of Fareeha’s hands, putting them on the desk next to hers. She took Fareeha’s hands in her own.

 _Her hands are so soft,_ Angela thought before speaking.

“I was.”

“Why?” Fareeha made no move to take her hands back from Angela’s grasp.

“Because I-“ Angela swallowed thickly, “Because I feel something. For you. that I am not supposed to feel.”

Fareeha opened her mouth to speak but the door burst open and Genji’s signature green hair was the first thing to be seen.

“Angie!” he smiled, and a twinge of jealousy settled in Fareeha’s stomach. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way, especially since she and Angela were nothing more than friends but it did nothing to stop the lump of lead in the pit of her stomach.

“I have to go.” Fareeha slipped her hands from Angela’s and stood. It took everything in her not to storm out like she wanted to, but she refused to give up her dignity.

“Fareeha, wait.” Angela stood and reached for Fareeha, whose long legs helped her speed her escape.

“Am I interrupting something?” Genji asked, the smile wiped from his face.

Fareeha brushed past him, “Not at all.”

“Genji, please.” Angela tripped over the chair leg and nearly went tumbling to the floor. But Genji’s quick reflexes saved her from faceplanting.

Fareeha glanced back, concern on her face, but seeing her in Genji’s arms prevented her from moving to see if she was alright. She walked away, tuning out Angela scolding Genji for not knocking before entering. A habit of his.

The joy she felt in the morning was long gone.

* * *

She sat in her swivel chair, frustrated with Genji, with herself, and with Fareeha. But mostly with herself. Genji didn’t deserve to be lied to. No one did. She had promised herself she wouldn’t see Fareeha anymore but the minute she opened the door and saw the eyes that reminded her of her favorite chocolate, Angela felt her walls come crumbling down. Fareeha Amari was going to be the death of her relationship with Genji, and she knew it. Angela couldn’t afford to leave the security that she had with Genji. The sweet boy that had helped her open up and begin to heal after the crisis took her parents from her. They had died long before she met Genji but it was he who helped her realize there was more to life than spending days in the hospital, cooped up in her office when she wasn’t on call.

There was loyalty she felt she owed him.

But Fareeha’s laugh, smile, and her sunny personality made Angela feel things she never felt with Genji. It was confusing and exhilarating. Dangerous too. Angela knew she was in trouble when she felt her heart pick up upon seeing Fareeha blush.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation with your friend, Angie.” Genji pulled her from her thoughts.

“It's fine. Just please knock. It would have been much worse if she had been a patient.”

“I will try to remember next time” Genji took Angela’s hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “Let me make it up to you. Lunch?”

Angela glanced down at the watch on her wrist.

“I can’t. Break is over soon.”

“Dinner then? Even if it is 3 in the morning. In which case I will take you to that breakfast place you like.”

“That does sound good,” Angela sighed. Her shift wasn’t even over and she already felt bone tired, “I’ll let you know, _ja_?”

“Deal,” Genji smiled and cupped Angela’s face in his hands, “Don’t work yourself too hard, Angie. Even you are human.” He kissed her softly.

Angela laughed breathlessly, “I am a goddess, Genji. Shame on you for doubting.”

They both shared a moment of laughter before Angela’s pager went off. Break was over.

* * *

They were nearly at the end of the second semester of school. It had been months since the girls had seen each other. The stunt Lena pulled with Amélie didn’t sit well with the dancing studio or the diplomat. Lena was officially banned from the studio and Amélie was pulled out of the class they had together. They managed to keep in contact by text message but it still made Lena miss her whenever she saw something she thought Amélie would like. Amélie would miss Lena when she heard a joke she knew Lena would enjoy. It was hard on them both.

Amélie was walking by her father’s office when she heard the quiet murmurings.

“…finest soldier you’ll ever meet.” It sounded like an American.

“ _Monsieur,_ I do not doubt your abilities as a soldier. I had the best of the best guarding my daughter, and yet, a whole squad of them has gone missing and another squad was outsmarted by a child. A child, _Monsieur._ ” Her father sounded irritated. It was surprising hearing him speak English, a language he despised. He must really be desperate.

The American spoke again, “With all due respect, sir, I fought in the Omnic Wars. Second only to the commander, I was one of the best marksman in the unit I was with.”

“And what unit would that be?”

“I-It says on my paperwork, sir.” The American stuttered.

Her father sighed angrily, “It is only because I expect to depart soon that I give you a chance tonight. There is a banquet. It is an audition you must not fail. I cannot afford to have her weighing me down during this election. I _will_ be an ambassador this term.” Her father snarled.

“Understood, boss.”

Amélie resisted the urge to screech for joy. Her father would be leaving and she would have time with Lena if she played her cards right. The doorknob to her father’s study began to turn and she bolted from his office, her heartbeat in her ears. She smiled as she ran, wondering if this is how Lena felt when she ran after committing her mischievous deeds.

She ran up the stairs and down the hallway all the way to her room. She closed her door as quickly and quietly as she could. Amélie plopped onto her bed and opened the book nearest to her. It was not a moment too soon because she heard the three sharp raps from her father knocking on her bedroom door.

“Are you decent?” Her father asked.

“Yes,” Amélie replied. She sat up just as the door opened. She only saw her father in the doorway. Strange, she could have sworn the American was with him.

“Amélie, I have someone you need to meet,” Her father stepped aside and revealed a familiar face, “This is Jesse McCree. He will oversee your security for the time being.”

Amélie held back a smile. She stood from her bed and held out her hand. Jesse took her hand and bowed. He kissed the back of her hand, quickly flashing her a small smile before standing upright once more. “It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Miss Guillard.”

She found the theatrics amusing and stifled a giggle, “Likewise, Monsieur McCree.”

“No need to call me monsieur, miss. McCree suits me just fine.” He smiled a toothy grin.

Amélie’s father cut in, clearing his throat, “Amélie, I expect you at tonight’s event. It will be McCree’s first night on the job.”

“Yes, Father.” Amélie dutifully responded.

“McCree and I have a few other details to work out,” Guillard gave McCree a look over, not bothering to try to hide the look of disdain on his face. “Namely, uniform changes.”

McCree looked down at himself, then back at Guillard. He forced a smile, “Whatever you say, boss.”

“Very well.” Guillard walked out of the room without so much as a backward glance to Amélie.

McCree made sure her father didn’t look back before giving her a thumbs up. “Miss.” He tipped his hat and followed her father.

Amélie made sure her door was closed before bursting into laughter. She grabbed her phone, pulling up Lena’s thread. She began typing, a smile on her face.

 **Amélie Guillard:** You won’t believe who my new bodyguard is.

She chewed on her nails while she impatiently waited, a habit she picked up from Lena. Her phone pinged and she jumped at it.

 **Lena Oxton:** Whoever, it is, I hope he’s dumber than he looks.

She giggled, typing.

 **Amélie Guillard:** I doubt you can outsmart an ex-Overwatch agent, chérie.

Her heart began to beat a bit quicker as she recalled the night of Lena’s birthday. It saddened her that she couldn’t be with her at her birthday dinner. She remembered crying her eyes out when her father forbade it. But the next day, Amélie went out to the shops and bought Lena a gift. Nothing expensive. Knowing Lena, she would refuse it if she felt it cost Amélie a significant amount of money. Lena never really seemed to understand Lena was worth the world to Amélie.

As a friend, of course.

She almost didn’t feel her phone vibrate in her lap.

 **Lena Oxton:** Try me.

 **Amélie Guillard:** Jesse “Bad at Making Friends” McCree.

She smiled at her own joke.

 **Lena Oxton:** No way! You’re so lucky.

 **Lena Oxton:** Me and Winston found his comic at the shops yesterday. He’s so badass. Still can’t believe he was our substitute teacher.

 **Amélie Guillard:** Lena Oxton, did you just curse?

 **Lena Oxton:** Maybe, but you can fight me.

Imagining a tiny, scowling Lena in oversized boxing gloves pulled a smile from her.

 **Lena Oxton:** Hey love, I must go. Reinhardt is going balmy about the party he’s dragging us to tonight.

 **Amélie Guillard:** Have fun!

She thought to mention the fact she was also going to a party later, but it didn’t seem to have much relevance in her opinion. Part of Amélie wished she was going to whatever party Lena was attending.

 _I bet her parties are actually fun,_ She thought bitterly.

Amélie glanced at the clock on her nightstand. She decided to take a nap. She had 3 hours until she had to get ready.

* * *

McCree waited patiently outside the city hall building. City hall was beautifully lit up with soft blue light and flashes of white light. Workers had power washed the steps earlier that day and everything was pristine. The air was a bit nippy, but the cold was the least of his concerns. He pulled at his bowtie for what seemed like the billionth time. It felt like it was choking him. The tuxedo he wore felt tight in all the wrong places and his shoes were beginning to pinch his feet uncomfortably.

 _She owes me big time for this,_ He thought.

He was doing a friend a favor. Jesse agreed when she asked, thinking it sounded simple enough. But his hour at the barbershop, cutting off his long hair into the uniform buzzcut immediately brought feelings of regret to the forefront of his mind. Especially when he was made to shave off his beard

“You look like a shaved rat.” A voice behind him spoke.

“It was your father’s request that I look,” Jesse made a face and imitated her father, “Presentable”

Amélie laughed., “I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so… clean.”

“It was time for my yearly shower.” Jesse sighed sadly, “Come on kid. Let’s go raise some hell.” He paused, “Not too much hell though. Not dangerously either.”

Amélie rolled her eyes and began walking towards the entrance, handing her invitation to the usher.

“He’s with me.” She said and the usher waved them in.

“Where’s your pa?” McCree asked.

“He arrives separately,” Amélie answered. She didn’t care to talk about her father.

“Cool beans,” Jesse mumbled.

They crossed the threshold of the building and entered an extravagant, seemingly endless room. The high ceiling was decorated with fresco paintings and intricate arches. The room gave off a golden glow. In the corner, a string quartet played, nearly drowned out by the steady din of the people. Everyone was dressed to the nines and it made Amélie feel uncomfortable. Her least favorite thing was to feel alone in a room full of people. She looked up at Jesse, who was scanning the room for exits and decided he would be enough to keep her company. He had a way of feeling like an older brother rather than a bodyguard. She sighed and tried not to think of her best friend's sunny brown eyes.

Jesse felt uneasy suddenly like they were being watched. He swiveled his head, the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. “Stay with me. Don’t wander. Something isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?” Amélie asked, also looking around.

“Someone is watching.” Jesse put his hand on Amélie’s shoulder. The cold metal made her jump a fraction of an inch, but she stayed quiet. The last thing she wanted to do was distract him.

“He looks like a shaved rat.” A familiar laugh boomed out from behind them and they both turned.

“Fareeha! You rascal, you!” Jesse glared at her.

Amélie smiled, "I said the same thing about him looking like a shaved rat."

They laughed.

“Did we scare you?” Winston asked from behind Fareeha. Both were wearing suits with black ties. Amélie felt urself blush looking at Fareeha in a suit.

“I thought some unfriendlies were watching us.” Jesse huffed.

Amélie craned her neck, butterflies flapping furiously in her stomach, “Is Le-“

“Amélie!” A body slammed into her and she knew who it was immediately. Her arms instinctively pulled her best friend closer and they hugged tightly for a good moment.

“I take it you missed each other?” Jesse asked.

Lena pulled away and nodded. Amélie burst out laughing. “ _Chérie_ , you have chocolate all over your face.”

“Hana does too.” Fareeha pointed out. They all looked at Hana. She was too preoccupied with licking her fingers, she didn’t notice everyone looking at her until she noticed how quiet it was. “What?” She asked.

Everyone broke out into laughter.

Amélie grabbed Lena’s hand and began to walk away.

“Don’t go where I can’t see you!” Jesse called out. Amélie nodded and led Lena through the crowd to the buffet table. She noticed that most of the strawberries next to the chocolate fountain were gone. She gave Lena a look.

“You’re going to get a horrid stomach ache.”

“Totally worth it.” Lena smiled. Amélie took a small moist napkin from the table and wiped Lena’s face.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had a party to go to.” Amélie asked.

Lena was still smiling. She seemed content with Amélie’s hands gently wiping the chocolate away. “This is a party no? Reinhardt got invited. Something about being a guest speaker. He’s getting ready for his speech. We are his plus ones.”

“Quite a lot of ones, _chérie_.”

“We’re VIP.” Lena grinned. Amélie pulled away, satisfied with her handiwork.

“There.”

“You look smashing, love.” Lena smiled. Amélie’s hair was down. She wore a flowy red dress with gold earrings and bracelets. A green pendant hung from her neck. A sash hung from her shoulders.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, chérie.” It was a miracle she didn’t stutter like she thought she would.

Lena wore a suit with a gold skinny tie, “Yeah! I never really fancied wearing dresses all that much. The orphanage would always make the girls wear dresses whenever visitors came. But Reinhardt let us wear whatever we wanted.”

“Is that why Hana is in Sleeping Beauty’s iconic pink dress?”

“It should have been blue but yes.” Lena grinned.

“Well, you look dashing.” Amélie smiled.

"I still can't believe Jesse McCree is your bodyguard." Lena's face was lit up.

"He's definitely one of the best I've had so far," Amélie commented, reaching for a glass of apple juice on the table. She took a sip and grimaced. Definitely not apple juice.

"I was a bit butthurt Fareeha didn't tell us she knew him until a few months ago." Lena fidgeted with the end of her tie, "Do you think he would sign me and Winston's comic? It would be totally ace if he did."

Amélie considered the glass and frowned. She really wanted some apple juice. "I'm sure if you ask him he will. He isn't a bad man."

“I hope so. Let’s go dance, yeah?” Lena smiled and wiggled a little which made Amélie snort.

They spent the evening dancing and laughing. Fareeha and Jesse laughed as they watched Amélie, Lena and Hana dance in the center of the floor. Well, truthfully, Amélie was the one dancing with grace. Lena and Hana were just wiggling their bodies and waving their arms in the air. It was nice to be reunited.

The feeling of being watched never left Jesse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eyed Peas- [I Gotta Feeling](https://youtu.be/ymZwgQLs4Os)
> 
> You're right if you think it's Hanzo


	10. Way Down We Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy. for my returning readers  
> Before you read this chapter, go to chapter one. :)

_I am_

_I am what they left._

_I am what is left over from what they stole._

The girl with cinnamon skin and charcoal eyes typed furiously on her keyboard, listening to music as she worked. She mumbled the lyrics under her breath in her native language. The music in her ears did a fantastic job of drowning out the bustling of people around her workstation. Her shirt was grimy, decorated with ink splotches and grease stains. She wore basketball shorts she had found in the communal laundry pile. The tiny desk she sat at was littered with pineapple soda cans, old Lay’s chip bags, lime peels and hot sauce bottles. Papers were messily stacked on her desk and small piles had begun to grow by her feet. Still, she could easily navigate through the mess with ease. She clacked away on her trusty keyboard that was, unfortunately, running on its last legs. As important as her job was, keyboards weren’t a high priority on the list for Los Muertos. She understood as much. She only asked for things that she needed desperately.

_I am a factory of smoke,_

_The labor of the worker for you to consume_

The war had ended officially. On paper. It had ended for the people with money and power, things her people didn’t have. Overwatch had come and gone, leaving destruction and mayhem in their wake. They called it stability and democracy. It did nothing but fill the endlessly deep pockets of the rich, leaving everyone else to fend for themselves. The war had ended on paper, but not in the streets of Mexico where Los Muertos had taken up resistance.

_I am development incarnate, a political discourse without breath_

_The prettiest face you have ever seen, I am the photo of one of the disappeared_

She felt a hand on her shoulder and took a pause from typing. The keys creaked in gratitude. Taking a deep breath, she gently removed her earbuds. She hated being interrupted.

“Are you done with that yet? _Jefe_ wants it done soon. Like in the next hour.”

Popping her knuckles, she stood.

“Is that so?” She asked, stretching her arms above her head. She bent over and reached for her toes. She sighed in relief when her back popped. She slowly stood upright to face the lieutenant speaking to her, “Tell him, if he wanted it done faster, he shouldn’t have piled on so many missions. I can only forge so many documents at a time.” She smiled like a Cheshire cat, “And besides. I have projects of my own.”

“What projects?” The lieutenant asked, their eyes narrowing. She looked away for a moment, eyeing a file labeled Vaquero. She briefly wondered how he was doing. Her attention returned to the lieutenant, whose station was made apparent by the bar they proudly wore on their chest. Nothing else about them was distinctive. Los Muertos made sure not to flaunt their officers, a protective measure against the omnics or any other rival gangs who wanted to topple the hierarchy.

“A magician never reveals her secrets.” She smiled and sat back down. Her rickety little chair protesting as she did. She reached across her desk and pulled out a manila file from under a messy stack of papers. She held the file out, “I finished his project two hours ago. Waiting should teach him not to pile his little projects on me. I am his… intern, not his slave.”

She wasn’t officially a part of Los Muertos. Yet. She was working to fix that.

The lieutenant chuckled and shook their head, “You have grown up to be quite the little rebel.” They took the file and walked away without another word. Music flowed once more.

_I have my lungs breathing in a clear blue, an altitude that asphyxiates_

She began typing again, snarling in frustration when she hit a wall. This man’s files were a little too encrypted for that of a civil servant. But she knew in her bones there was nothing civil about a man who sold his people. She had spent the last few months wrapping up an operation that was years in the making. Everyone knew of the corruption in the political offices. But no one could ever get away with speaking out about it. People were disappearing, just as they always had. Students protesting, gone by the truckload. Teachers, laborers, freedom advocates, found dead Their bodies riddled with bullets. Midnight was a harrowing time across Latin America. It was a suspense no one should have to go through, waking up and wondering which family members had been taken while they lay asleep in their beds. If there was one thing the Mexican government was good at, it was making people disappear. Their methods, far from discreet. No one was sure if that was a scare tactic or simply a lack of caring. A lack of shame. Did the government know they could get away with it? The disappearances happened during the omnic wars and in all the wars throughout history. Argentina’s Dirty Wars, Ayotzinapa in Mexico’s Drug Wars, The Mirabal sisters of the Dominican Republic during the Trujillo regime, it was all still fresh on everyone’s minds. The cost of freedom was always a bit higher for people with darker complexions.

She carried the burden of that with every keystroke. The weight of history rested on her shoulders.

Things didn’t start out this way for her. She was a normal girl with normal worries. The war had been something she heard about in the papers and on the news. They were so far from the fighting in the city. For once, there was a perk to being poor and living on the outskirts. Her mother had reassured her nothing bad would happen.

She was wrong.

Her father began to drink after they lost her mother to a rogue Overwatch missile. In the middle of the night, a stray bullet took him as well. Although he was far from a model father, he was her family. He was all she had left. Los Muertos had found her in tears after three days under her bed. She was on death’s doorstep, severely malnourished and dehydrated. Her father had a habit buying booze instead of food for his daughter.

_I am all the saints that hang from my neck_

_The juice of my fight is not artificial because the fruit of my land is natural_

_\--_

_At first, Los Muertos had tried their hardest to keep her away from the fight. They had armed escorts taking her and the other orphans to a school on the outskirts of town, far from the fighting. The leader back then did his best to keep them from the horrors of war._

_“We must raise the next generation to be peacemakers. Not freedom fighters,” He had said, “I will not let these children spill their blood for sins not of their own.”_

_That leader was kind and just. He radiated warmth and kindness. She was drawn to that, the feeling of safety he gave her. Many of the orphans were. During the nights that the omnics bombed the buildings around them, he would sing them to sleep until the attacks were over. But even when they weren’t being bombed, she followed him around. He laughed and called her his shadow._

_She had managed to flunk a math class. That is what led to the discovery of her uncanny talents around a computer. They had been learning about coding and ciphers in class. Something she understood well. Unfortunately, she spent more time making her own codes instead of completing the worksheets and it took a toll on her grades. The ones the teacher handed out weren’t challenging enough for her._

_In the middle of the night, she used her school-issued laptop to break into her teacher’s grade book and changed every grade to an A just before the grade submission deadline. It couldn’t be changed once the system processed it and the action saved many kids from having to repeat the grade entirely. She was a hero to them. A mini revolutionary._

_The leader caught wind of what she did and he sat her down._

_“You can’t do this again.” He said, “You need to work and earn your victories. Getting an education and honest work is what will save you from these slums.”_

_She had nodded, hanging her head in shame. He had grown to be like a father figure for her and it made her actions feel even more reprehensible. She had promised him she would work hard and get everyone to a better place._

_He laughed, his kind eyes twinkling, “I believe in you, mi sombra. You are the future and I am proud.”_

_He was dead two weeks later. The victim of an explosive device in the road while escorting the orphans to school. She had stayed home with a fever that day._

_She stopped going to school after that. She was young and alone. But a fire had been ignited in her that day. She spent years teaching herself by trial and error from that point on._

_\--_

She jumped up from her seat, not caring about its fragility. The force of the movement knocked it to the ground. She didn’t even notice the people around her stopping in their tracks. She couldn’t even hear the music anymore. The only sound she heard was the furious beating of her heart in her ears and the noisy clacking of her keyboard. The safehouse quieted down. No one moved. It was dead silence, save for the noise she was making. Months of work. Years of recon. Late nights and sleepless mornings. Her body was tense, sweat forming on her upper lip and her temple. Her calf began to cramp but she couldn’t feel it, her attention focused solely on the task before her. Everything was riding on her abilities. Everyone was counting on her.

Then, a sweet sound.

_“Access Granted: Welcome Guillermo Portillo.”_

“YES! THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!” She yelled.  She slammed her fists onto the table. She could have jumped for joy had she not noticed the pain in her calf. She moved to sit back down on her chair, not realizing she had knocked it over and fell on her bottom. But she didn’t care. She was too busy laughing to give a damn. Sweet, painful laughter. A victory for those she had lost.

The lieutenant ran over to help her up. A small crowd began to build around her desk.

“What’s going on?” They asked.

She was too busy laughing to respond. They looked on the computer screen and that’s when they saw it. Emails and memos from the inbox of Guillermo Portillo himself. Proof he was colluding with foreign companies to funnel out Mexico’s riches into their economies. All his secret, illegal proceedings on full display and in neat little folders for them to sift through with ease. The lieutenant felt their face stretch into a smile. They began to laugh as well, “You did it! Holy fucking shit you actually did it!” They turned to face the crowd, “She hacked Portillo’s email!”

Email after email proving what they knew to be true all along. Evidence of bribery, kickbacks, extortion. Portillo had sold out the people he swore to serve.

A roar of cheers erupted and celebration in her honor was in order. The lieutenant smiled at the girl on the ground, “You know that means you can pick a name, right? I mean this is a huge win for the people. You deserve a spot with us. Officially. You earned it,” The lieutenant showered her with praise she tuned out. Until they spoke the words she had been wanting to hear for the past few years since the old leader had passed, “You have to pick a name now. Do you know what your name will be?”

She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. She stood proudly, her chest puffed out. She had decided her name the day her father figure died.

_I am…_

“Sombra.”

* * *

Reinhardt loosened his tie. He felt the room closing in on him. He felt every single bead of sweat that slid down his neck onto his back. Public speaking wasn’t one of his strong points. But when they approached him to speak at a peace summit, he jumped at the opportunity.

 _‘A chance to motivate people toward a better future’_ is what the email had said. Reinhardt was told someone was going to announce a peacemaking initiative. His position as an ex-Overwatch agent would help give legitimacy to the budding proposal, or so the email said, and he happily accepted.

But the moment he arrived at the city hall building, the doubts began to bite chunks out of his confidence. He hoped his nerves would settle by the time he arrived at his designated dressing room, but unfortunately, it wasn’t the case.

 _Ana would be better for this,_ He thought sadly. He felt in his bones the ache of her absence. It was moments like that which made the ache amplify. An omnic knocked on the door of his dressing room.

“Come in.” He flinched at the shakiness of his voice.

“Sir? They’re ready for you.” The omnic informed him.

Reinhardt stood, his head nearly brushing against the ceiling. Being tall was a blessing and a curse depending on his location. “Lead the way, sir.”

* * *

“Oi!” Lena stopped dancing abruptly. Hana and Amélie did as well.

“ _Quoi?”_

“We missed Christmas! I don’t know if you celebrate but it was our first and I had a gift for you!” Lena smacked her own forehead, “I forgot your gift at home because I didn’t think this would be the party you’re attending but you’re here an-“

“ _Chérie,_ ” Amélie reached for Lena and rested her hand on her shoulders. It effectively silenced Lena, “Don’t worry about it. I have your birthday gift as well as your Christmas gift.”

“You do?” Lena asked. A warm feeling filled her tummy. The fact that Amélie had thought of her in the time they didn’t see each other made her heart beat in a funny pattern.

Amélie smiled, “Yes. of course. Don’t worry.”

Fareeha and McCree came up next to them looking frantic. Fareeha spoke first. “Lena, her father is headed this way. He has been looking for her since he arrived.”

“I think it’s best we skedaddle.” McCree put his hand on Amélie’s shoulder and pushed her through the crowd. She didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Lena.

“Wait!” She exclaimed.

McCree stopped and knelt in front of her to speak at eye level, “Listen. Right now, we need to get far away from them. If he knows I’m letting you see Lena when he specifically told me not to, I will lose this job and you’ll get stuck with someone who couldn’t give two shorts and a curly about you two. Please. We both need this.”

Amélie opened her mouth to speak but realized he was the voice of reason in that moment. She exhaled forcefully. He was right. She knew he was right. But it didn’t make her any less anxious about never seeing her friend again.

“You’re right.” She said simply.

“Right about what?” Her father’s voice came from behind McCree.

“That she needs to support your trip to France for your campaigning.” McCree stood and smiled. Lying came quick and easy to him. He lied more than he breathed it felt like.

“Ah, yes.” Her father’s cold eyes stared her down. Amélie hated her eyes because of him. She wished she had gotten her mother’s happy green eyes but instead she got her father’s hard hazel eyes. At times, she wondered if her gaze was as cold and unfeeling as his.

McCree nudged her and she stuttered out the quickest lie she could think of.

“I want to go with you.” It tasted like ash in her mouth. It was a necessary lie. She prayed he wouldn’t change his mind about leaving her behind.

“Amélie, be mature. I cannot take you and pay for your transfer to yet another school. The cost of guarding both of us is far from cheap and I need all the money I can get for my campaign.” Her father pursed his lips, “You will speak no more on the subject. Is that understood?”

“Yes, father.” She lowered her gaze to her feet. She nearly broke out into laughter when she saw the size of McCree’s feet, or rather his shoes.

 _This man is wearing platforms,_ she thought. He was, in a sense. McCree had lifts on.

“Very well,” The lights dimmed. And the room went quiet. Her father straightened his jacket, “I’m going to go get ready.”

* * *

Reinhardt spoke about the horrors of war. The omnics he fought against and the terrorists that aided them for their own personal gain. People were beginning to live in fear once more and with reason. The statistics showed a slow but steady increase in omnic attacks. The wars had scarred the world in the worst ways. He was a nervous wreck and nearly jumped for joy like he had seen Lena and Winston do many times when it his speech ended. He felt good. Talking about his experiences would hopefully motivate people to avoid war as a solution. That’s what he was there for.

Wasn’t it?

Guillard came in after Reinhardt, speaking about the injustices going on in their very streets. Children left orphans, people missing, homes wrecked. He called for unity at a time like this and announced his plans to run as the head ambassador for peace in an organization he was planning to form. Something to protect the people against the threats of the world, both from machines and humans. But that is where the trouble began. Years later, on the nights when he reflected on the past, Reinhardt would be able to pinpoint the exact moment in which he realized he had been played.

“A new taskforce! Better than Overwatch! To strengthen humanity! This world was built by human hands. It was human hands that built the machines and it will be human hands that tear them to pieces! No longer will they terrorize us! This world is for the humans!”

Reinhardt’s stomach dropped. His speech was not meant to endorse a man like Guillard. But he felt the sudden shift in attitude in the room. He scanned the room, finding the face of an old friend. Jesse McCree, guarding Amélie Guillard, the daughter of the power-hungry man spouting nonsense on stage. His eyes wandered until he found the kids. His kids. Fareeha. Hana. Winston. Lena. They were smiling at Hana and Lena trying to stuff as many marshmallows into their mouths as they could. His heart ached painfully in his chest. He had grown to love them as if they were his own. They were, perhaps not by blood, but by a bond much stronger than something so trivial. Their future was in danger because of the man on stage. He looked back at Jesse. They shared a long look of worry. They could feel what was happening. History repeating itself.

“I have spoken to my peers, your leaders. And they agree! With your support, we will give rise to a future of peace and security!”

A holovid dropped behind Guillard. A symbol displayed proudly and brightly.

“I hope the people of all nations realize the importance of this action. And I plead to my fellow Frenchmen, elect me to be your bridge between nations and together we will be strong! We will be strong together and together we will be Talon! Elect me to be,” Guillard threw his fist into the air, “your Prime Minister!” The audience began to applaud. Reinhardt’s heart stopped.

The crowd loved it, but Jesse and Reinhardt both felt the cold tendrils of uneasiness take hold of their hearts. They had seen enough of history to know when it was being made, and not for the better.

Greedy men always stuffed their pockets at the expense of others.

They had a feeling Guillard was about to start filling his.

Reinhardt began taking deep breaths. Calming ones like kind Ana once showed him long ago.

 _Perhaps he will not win,_ he thought. But he knew.

He was born into a world where the angry rhetoric of an American candidate awoke the ugliest side of people. At first, he was treated like a joke.  The world underestimated the power of hate. They did not respect the power he held and he used that to his advantage. People weren’t paying attention to him while he flooded the hearts of hateful people with anger and bravado. The nation was watching a woman with an email account instead of watching a man with the force of hate groups behind him. They had lost the fear they had because the man in office shared the same hateful views they did. Reinhardt knew the power a single man had. A man with the power of words. Words that stoked the flames of people’s fear. Their anger. Their hate. The pen was mightier than the sword. In the wrong hands, a pen could rally up an army of ruthless, mindless people. Fear was often stronger than a person’s humanity.

Reinhardt hoped Guillard wouldn’t win. But if history was truly going to repeat itself, he knew the people would let him win.

It was a relief when the diplomat finally stepped off the stage. But the damage had been done. The excited buzzing of the audience told him where they stood.

Liberty would die with thunderous applause just like it had nearly 50 years earlier.

* * *

They sat at the dinner table, the kids upstairs asleep. Both men looking disheveled and out of sorts. Reinhardt had taken his jacket off in the car and loosened his tie. He had unbuttoned the first three buttons of his now untucked shirt. He studied the man next to him. Jesse McCree’s tie hung around his neck, completely undone and his shirt collar popped. His jacket hung on the back of his chair. His shirt, completely unbuttoned and the undershirt he wore was stained with years of love and use. Both men were tired beyond their years.

Jesse cradled a hot cup of coffee in his hands, watching as the wisps of steam rose from the hot liquid. Reinhardt had let his tea go cold a while ago, not having the stomach for anything after the events from earlier.

It was nearing 4 a.m. and despite their fatigue, they were far too anxious to sleep.

“What are we going to do?” Jesse asked quietly.

“There’s nothing we can do. It’s done and he has rung a bell that thousands will hear.” Reinhardt rubbed his massive hands on his face. The unease in his stomach hadn’t lessened even as the hours passed.

“Maybe he won’t win. I mean who is crazy enough to agree with that bullshit?” Jesse’s eyes were full of false hope. Reinhardt sighed.

“Jesse, you know better.”

McCree solemnly nodded. He knew in his heart how hateful fearful people could be. “Jackass lied. He told me he was only going for ambassador.” Jesse began to bite his nails. Sometimes he missed having his other hand for the sole purpose of mowing those nails down too, “He lied and I fell for it.”

“Come now, Jesse. No one could have seen this coming.” Reinhardt reassuringly pat Jesse on the back. But Jesse shook his head.

“I should have! I was an Overwatch agent for fuck’s sake!” Jesse stood, his chair scraping against the hardwood. “I should have known. I should have known.” He began pacing the room. Reinhardt pitied Jesse, so young and already so aged. No one should have this much guilt at such a young age and yet here was Jesse McCree, 26 and already burdened by the same demons Reinhardt fought daily. War took so much more than lives.

“Maybe he didn’t tell you because he thought you would out him to the media before it was time.” Reinhardt sighed, bringing the cup of tea to his lips and taking a generous sip. His face soured upon realizing it had gone cold. He was too far into his thoughts to notice. Reinhardt furrowed his brow, another thought crossing his mind, “How did you get a job with him? Former agents can’t get jobs like that since the decommissioning order.”

Jesse stopped pacing and moved to run a hand through his hair before remembering he was essentially bald. He felt his palms begin to sweat, eyes avoiding Reinhardt’s knowing gaze. Jesse knew he couldn’t lie to Reinhardt. There was no way he could.

“It’s a favor for a friend,” Jesse mumbled He sighed and sat back down.

“What friend? You have never been the social type.” Reinhardt sipped his tea, again forgetting it was cold. He stood up angrily and walked to the kitchen, dumping it into the sink. He resisted the urge to smash the cup. Reinhardt wondered where the sudden burst of anger came from. Cold tea was no reason to get violent.

 _It’s the frustration,_ he realized. Guillard’s campaign was affecting him more than he realized.

He turned, nearly jumping out of his skin. Jesse was leaning against the wall, having followed Reinhardt into the kitchen.

“ _Verdammt,_ Jesse McCree. Why haven’t you changed into your regular clothes?” Reinhardt willed himself to calm down. The spurs on Jesse’s boots acted as a cat bell for him. His steps could be so light. An asset on the battlefield, but a liability when he was on base with tightly wound and heavily armed agents.

Jesse shrugged, “I left my clothes over where I’m staying.”

“And where would that be?” Reinhardt’s eyes narrowed. He remembered the scrawny kid they found breaking into one of Overwatch’s American bases. A troublemaker with a tenacity unlike any he had ever seen. They arrested him for trespassing only to find he had outstanding warrants in 19 states, a consequence of running with the Deadlock gang. The judge was going to send him to prison for life at the tender age of 17, but Ana Amari had stepped in at the last moment, offering to take him in. The judge then gave young Jesse McCree a choice.

Prison or Overwatch.

The Deadlock gang put a bounty on his head the moment they found out he had chosen Overwatch.

It took months to break Jesse. Reinhardt was the one to train him and build his character from the ground up. But it wasn’t until Jesse’s first mission that he really settled into his new role. It was also on his first mission that they realized Jesse McCree’s spirit was something no one on earth could break. He had a darkness that lived in him from spending years with vicious, bloodthirsty gangs. Reinhardt shuddered at the memory of Jesse’s cold eyes as he mercilessly mowed down rogue omnics with no hesitation. No one would be able to erase that completely.

Another thing that was unerasable was his ability to get himself into trouble. Reinhardt knew.

“Jesse?” He asked again.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” Jesse shrugged but avoided his gaze.

“What’s going on, boy?” Reinhardt leaned against the counter.

“Nothing. I have it handled.”

Reinhardt sighed again. There was nothing he could say or do to convince Jesse to tell him. A small part of him was hurt that Jesse didn’t trust him enough to tell him when he was in trouble. Another part of him accepted the fact that he was a grown man who needed to solve the problems he made for himself.

“You are not alone. I will always have your back, young one.” Reinhardt began to crack his knuckles, a habit that gave away his discomfort. “You were like a son to Ana. I’ll always protect you and Fareeha no matter what.”

Jesse looked up, his eyes finally meeting Reinhardt’s, “You loved her, didn’t you?”

It was Reinhardt’s turn to have sweaty palms, “No. That would be unprofessional and completely-“ He was running out of words and reasons.

“Lying was never your strong suit, old man.” Jesse gave him a crooked smile, “I’m sure she loved you too.”

Reinhardt turned away and gripped the sink behind him. He had never spoken about his feelings toward Ana with anyone and he never admitted to himself aloud. He couldn’t ever bring himself to.

“I miss her.” Jesse murmured softly, “She would know what to do with all of this.” He sighed. He opened his mouth to speak but a creak on the stairs made him stop and his hand flew to his holster. Reinhardt’s massive hand clamped down on a knife laying in the sink and they both fell into a familiar rhythm. Their breathing was near silent. Reinhardt went around the Jack-and-Jill though the dining room and into the living room, clearing it. Jesse pressed himself against the wall.

Fareeha turned the corner. She was mid-yawn when she felt the cold metal of Jesse’s gun on her temple.

“Christ, Fareeha! What are you doing awake?” Jesse asked exasperatedly as he holstered his gun. Fareeha was now wide awake, the gun scaring off any grogginess she had felt a moment ago.

“I was thirsty,” It was more of a question than a solid answer, “Is that a crime?”

Reinhardt sighed behind her, making her jump a little. She shook her head and made her way to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. Damn if she didn’t get the drink she nearly died for.

Jesse ran a hand over his head, missing his long locks, “I think it’s time I head home”

“Are you sure? You are welcome to sleep on the couch, boy.” Reinhardt threw the knife in the sink, the clatter making Fareeha turn and glare at him.

“He nearly blew my head off. You both need sleep.” Fareeha took a sip of her cool, crisp water. She thought it tasted like the water of the gods and she sighed, feeling less cranky.

“The shrimp is right,” Jesse said, going back to collect his jacket. He called from the dining room, “I ought to go home. We’ll see each other soon. All right, old man?”

Reinhardt sighed and waited by the front door. “I don’t doubt that.”

The house was quiet after Jesse left. Reinhardt was ready to climb upstairs when Fareeha spoke.

“For what it’s worth,” Fareeha looked down at the bottle in her hands, watching as the little droplets of condensation rolled down onto her fingers, “I think my mother had feelings for you too.” Fareeha took another sip of water waiting for Reinhardt to respond, but the silence remained unbroken. Reinhardt felt his heart pound uncomfortably in his chest.

“You are my father. that other man might have helped make me, but you,” Fareeha swallowed. It was a truth she had accepted when she was 16 and angry at the man that left, but it was a truth she had trouble articulating.

“You are my dad.”

Reinhardt felt joy and sorrow. A bittersweet feeling bloomed in his chest.

“As you are my daughter.”

“Goodnight, dad.”

Reinhardt quietly climbed the stairs, feeling his heart lighter and heavier at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaleo- [Way Down We Go](https://youtu.be/v96wkt38EU8)
> 
> The song Sombra was singing is originally in Spanish.  
> It is [Latinoamérica](https://youtu.be/UuhrODq_S-4) by Various Artists. I like this one better than the original but anyway. Enjoy.
> 
> Also I'm working on another fic. A Pharmercy centric one That one should be out by early next month but just FYI


	11. Blindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy.  
> SO so sorry for the super late post. here is like 7k. i have neglected this fic in favor of my other fic. But here we are.
> 
> Due to recent Blizzard content being released, i have decided to speed things up and end Part 1 sooner than scheduled. Lemme tell you, i am so excited to hurt ya'll's feelings.
> 
> Enjoy the fluff i am giving you cause it's about to go....

The building was dark save for the dimmed fluorescents and colorful lights bouncing off a massive disco ball situated just above the skating rink. It smelled like rubber, feet, and sweat. People babbled, creating a constant, buzzing din. The conversations were drowned out by the music, which was loud enough that she could feel the bass in her chest, a feeling she usually didn’t like. However, Hana was preoccupied with keeping herself upright and not face planting onto the painted grey concrete. Hana’s palms were sweaty, and she had a tight death grip on the safety banister. Lena and Fareeha had taken off without her, Lena immediately picking up the art of roller skating. Winston had elected to stay home, the thought of his massive body crashing to the ground didn’t appeal to him. Reinhardt sat on the sidelines, watching with utter joy at Lena and Fareeha whizzing past him like speed demons, two blurs of white and bright yellow. He had been excited on the drive over, reminiscing about his younger days. _“I wish I could skate with you,”_ He had told them in the car, “ _But my back and my knees couldn’t possibly handle it.”_

Hana could hear them whooping and laughing as they rounded the turns of the oval rink. They bobbed and weaved with confidence, careful not to slam into the bodies in their path. She watched in wonder, wishing she could move as flawlessly as they could. The thought was distracting enough that she didn’t feel herself begin to roll away from the edge until saccharine brown eyes met hers in glee.

“Are you going to skate with us now?” Lúcio asked her, a wide smile on his little face, his curly brown hair beginning to brush the tips of his ears. Both he and Hana wore matching red t-shirts with a picture of a melting ice cream on it, courtesy of Reinhardt. Lúcio had sped off earlier, the rollerblades on his feet were practically an extension of himself. Hana had felt a quiet type of jealousy take root in her at seeing him giggle with the other, older skaters around the rink.

“I can’t skate.” Hana whimpered. Her bottom lip began to quiver. Tears of frustration were beginning to pool at the corners of her eyes. She reached a hand to wipe her tears away, but the action caused her to realize just how far away from the safety of the railing she had gone.

Hana began to panic and quickly started to scramble back towards her haven. Panic mixed with inexperience on skates proved to be an awful combination. Her legs began to buckle, and her face began to rush forward towards the hard ground.

She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the impact that never came.

Lúcio was still smiling at her when she opened her eyes, except this time, he was holding her hand tightly in his, keeping her safe from the ground. Safe from harm. He seemed to consider something as he helped Hana to some semblance of stability on her skates.

“I’ll teach you how to skate, okay?”

Hana nodded.

He held onto her hand, ignoring the older kids who were calling to him, asking for him to show them the rest of the tricks and stunts he could pull. He was focused solely on her. They inched past Reinhardt, who was watching them with curious eyes.

“You can’t be like that,” Lúcio pointed at her knees, “You gotta be loose.”

“Why?” Hana asked, trying to relax like he instructed. It was easier said than done.

Lúcio shrugged, “I don’t know. My mom taught me when I was little.”

The comment earned a laugh from Reinhardt. Lúcio spoke as if they weren’t in fact, little. They didn’t seem to notice it though. They kept inching forward.

“And you gotta kinda be low.” Lúcio leaned forward, his tiny legs bending ever so slightly. He was careful not to let go of Hana.

Han looked at him a bit skeptically, “It looks like you’re about to sit and take a poop.”

They both laughed at the image of someone taking a dump right there in the middle of the skating rink. Hana leaned into the semi-squat, mimicking his position.

“Okay, now push with your tippy-toes.” Lúcio angled his foot and waited for Hana to do the same. Again, she mimicked his movements. “Be careful because your feet will go kind of far from each other so you gotta watch out. My friend once did a split and he said it really hurt.”

“Okay.” Hana took a deep breath, squeezing Lúcio’s hand just a little tighter. They pushed off at the same time. Hana immediately felt herself going faster than she wanted to and her knees locked.

“No, no, look, relax.” Lúcio gently spoke, “You won’t fall. I promise.”

Lúcio never lied. He never broke a promise. If he said she wouldn’t fall, she believed him. Hana relaxed a little and pushed off again, this time a bit more confident in her strides.

She felt herself slow down and she gave another push.

And another.

And another.

Until finally, she gained enough momentum and confidence. A mischievous giggle bubbled in her chest as she suddenly pushed off with all her strength, leaving an unsuspecting Lúcio in the dust.

“I’ll race you!” Hana screeched as she rounded the corner with some trouble. She heard Lúcio laughing behind her as he took off after her. He quickly caught up with her. They both laughed as they crossed an unspecified finish line. Lena and Fareeha congratulated Hana on learning how to skate.

They spent the rest of the evening tiring themselves out, Dancing in the kaleidoscopic colors that bounced off the disco ball. They moved like beasts in a frenzy, stopping only to get a fountain drink from the skating rink’s rather sketchy dining area. They took a break and piled into the booth right next to the rink. Hana was grateful to find out the carpet wasn’t nearly as slippery as the concrete they had spent the evening on.

It started because of Lena, who as per usual, drank too much too fast and expelled a burp that smelled awful. Then Lúcio burped, and comically so. His burp was bigger than his body. Hana tried her best to burp but all that came out were short bursts of noise that counted more as hiccups than anything. Fareeha burped louder than all of them but was quickly dethroned by Reinhardt, who sounded more like a foghorn than a person. Hana thought Reinhardt to be the strongest man in the world after that.

They rolled back onto the rink racing each other and the other strangers. Everyone cheered Lúcio on as he won race after race. The four of them linked hands and sped along, creating a human chain that made Hana feel like she was skating at the speed of light. They skated until the rink finally closed and they all had to go home.

They all fell asleep in the car on the way home, Reinhardt called Lúcio’s mother and asking permission to let him sleep over. Hana heard his mother say yes just as she was falling asleep and she couldn’t think of anything better than waking up and immediately seeing her best friend in the whole wide world. She was lucky. Lena didn’t have her best friend to skate with because Amélie had practice and Fareeha’s best friend had to go to work at the hospital like a grown up. Hana was lucky. Her eyelids weighed heavy and eventually fluttered closed. A thought crossed her mind just as she fell into her happy world of dreams.

Lúcio never once let her fall.

* * *

It had been a week since the night of the fundraiser. Hanzo nearly burst into laughter upon hearing Guillard’s anti-crime and omnic speech. The Shimada family had members, both human and omnic, who would never bow down to such a little man. It would take more than a few hateful words to bring them to their knees.

Hanzo had arrived home late from yet another one of his father’s assignments. He had almost lost the target, again. He had been shot at, the bullet embedded itself in the wall concrete wall behind him, but not before it tore through the outer part of his deltoid. The moron who shot at him was dead in the ground with injuries much worse than his. However, as much as he hated to admit it, he had earned that gunshot. He had been distracted. Bullets were flying, and his thoughts wandered to Angela and the time he spent his evening taking photos of Amélie and her friends at an ice cream shop. Angela had tagged along with the Amari girl. Hanzo felt angry for a moment before shoving his emotions into a deep, dark hole in his mind before throwing the hole away. Emotions had no room during missions, regardless of how he felt about his brother’s heart possibly being broken. But something about the way they acted around each other rubbed him wrong. He couldn’t recall anytime recently that Angela acted so carefree around Genji, not like she did with Fareeha Amari.

Hanzo sighed, deciding it was best to keep his suspicions to himself. It could be nothing. He loosened his tie with his bad arm, completely forgetting about his wound. He ground his teeth and hissed in pain as kicked his shoes off, leaving them discarded just outside the door. The cool night air hit his feet and a chill shot up his legs. It was not a welcome feeling. He hurried inside, careful not to slam the door shut. The house was deathly quiet, and he wasn’t about to break the silence by stomping about. Hanzo walked on his toes, his socks muffling what little noise his steps made. His mind wandered to the successes of the past few months. He was beginning to find little patterns, the way the family she was always with would forget to lock the door at times, or perhaps the way the Guillard girl would linger outside of her house for a bit longer than necessary on some nights. He needed to be able to snatch the girl by himself, to prove to his father he wasn’t the incompetent imbecile he was suspected to be. He dedicated himself to memorizing every detail about this girl to do just that.

He pulled up the hologram with a flick of his wrist. He had gotten good footage of the girl and her newest guard on the night of the fundraiser. His eyes immediately going to the guard rather than his target. There was something about his easy, lazy grin that drew Hanzo in. He tried to ignore the sudden onslaught of butterflies and dread in his stomach. The guard was handsome. Not devastatingly so, but just enough to be a blip on Hanzo’s radar. Another flick of his wrist and the hologram disappeared.

Perhaps in another life. Perhaps then he could give into the whims of his desires. He inhaled deeply, pursing his lips, and making his way to his room soundlessly. He passed by Genji’s room, pausing to listen to his soft snores. Hanzo smiled. Genji only snored when he was utterly exhausted. He walked away, his head shaking. Genji always gave his all when he trained and when he fought.

His stomach dropped when he saw his bedroom light seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He held back the increasingly strong urge to pull his gun out from its place, tucked in his waistband. The paranoia of the job was getting to him.

Control.

He needed to be in control of his emotions if he wanted to meet his father’s expectations. Hanzo hardened his face and squared his shoulders, his head high. His hand closed around the doorknob and he slowly opened the door to his room.

“Hanzo.” His father greeted him, hands clasped behind his back, “What an interesting collection you have here.” It was nearly midnight and Sojiro’s suit was still impeccable, clean and wrinkle-free. Hanzo was sure that his shoes, had he been wearing them, would have been polished and shined without so much as a speck of dust on them. A dark green tie hung from his neck. If Hanzo looked closely enough, he could see the twin dragons tattooed on his neck peeking out from underneath Sojiro’s collar.

The gift of the Shimada’s, the one that would be his on the day he earned his place as an heir. His ancestors would be the ones to decide when that day would be.

Hanzo stayed in the doorway of his room, regretting the decision to loosen his tie when he arrived home. He followed his father’s gaze around his room. Neatly written notes were tacked onto the corkboard, some on the wall, in organized rows and columns. Some notes were directly under the pictures of Amélie’s closest known associates.

_Reinhardt Wilhelm, Friend._

_Fareeha Amari, Friend._

_Winston/Gorilla, Friend._

_Lena Oxton, Best Friend._

_Hana Song, Friend._

A picture of Amélie’s dance instructor as well as a few other associates was tacked on the wall without much description. A photo of the new guard also hung on the wall, the only one without a name written underneath. Some folders were neatly stacked in the corner of his desk. Hanzo felt a hint of pride in himself for accomplishing so much without help from his father’s henchmen.

“I have been watching the Guillard girl,” Hanzo spoke in a steady and clear voice. His father could smell fear from miles away. He wasn’t about to let his father see the quiet fear he had for him

“And you did all this? By yourself?” Sojiro stroked his chin, considering his son, his expression unreadable.

Hanzo nodded, firm, confident. Controlled.

Sojiro smiled at him. A smile he saved only for Genji or Angela when she came over. Never for him though. Hanzo wished he could live in the moment forever. Spending an eternity relishing his father’s pride in him.

“Good, good, my son.” Sojiro crossed the room with open arms, pulling Hanzo into a tight embrace and giving him a few solid pats on the back. Hanzo was torn between being elated and being fearful of the ring he could feel on his father’s hand with every pat he was given. The same ring that had hurt him so many times before. He felt his father pull away, a smile wide on his face. Hanzo missed the way his father would smile when their mother was still alive. The corners of his eyes would crinkle, his eyes would sparkle, and his entire face would convey the gentle happiness Sojiro had long since lost. The smile he had now was something similar but still not the same.

“Your suit is torn, Hanzo.” Sojiro sighed, looking at the rip in Hanzo’s sleeve.

“A bullet I didn’t see coming.” He looked his father in the eye, hoping he wouldn’t figure out exactly why he got clipped.

“I assume you repaid the shooter tenfold?” Sojiro had a sinister glint in his eye.

Hanzo gave his father a jerky nod, something to keep up the charade of cool apathy.

“Good.” Sojiro turned back to look over Hanzo’s work, “I had heard you were running something on the side, but I must admit, this wasn’t quite what I was expecting.”

Hanzo stayed quiet.

“What of your brother? Does he know where you go when you aren’t… working?”

“No, Father. I kept him out of this, just as you requested.”

Sojiro hummed, crossing his arms. He seemed to ponder a great many things in the tiny stretch of eternity between them.

Hanzo could hear the distant sirens wailing through the city. If he listened hard enough, he was sure he could hear his father breathing. When he was younger, his father taught him how to breathe without making so much as a sound. He figured his father would breathe normally at some point, but it had been years since he heard his father even sigh. The only time Sojiro breathed normally was when he was using his theatrics to intimidate.

“Take your brother with you, the next time you go out casing.” Sojiro finally spoke, pulling Hanzo out of his own head, “It’s time Genji learned exactly what it means to be a Shimada.”

Hanzo’s body tensed.

He had been waiting for years for his father to say those words. For the first time in a long time, he would have someone to share the burden of his father’s expectations.

Except, instead of the relief and exhilaration he was expecting to feel, a ball of reluctance, panic, and anger was building in his chest.

“Father, you’ve never included him before, wh-“

Sojiro turned, a quiet anger bubbling in his eyes, “Are you questioning me, my son?”

Hanzo dropped his gaze to the ground, “No, Father.”

A beat passed before Sojiro spoke, “You haven’t the foresight yet, but Guillard, that oaf, is rounding up more supporters by the day. He’s posing a threat to our operations as well as our family itself. I need that girl and his mouth shut soon or else we will lose control of all that we have built.”

It didn’t sit right with Hanzo. Genji, sweet, gentle, Genji, being turned into someone cold and broken. Someone devoid of laughter, someone whose hands would drip with blood and shoulders weighed heavy by the sins committed.

Someone like Hanzo.

He thought of ways to convince his father otherwise, to spare Genji from having the same nightmares he did. He couldn’t bear to take Genji’s carefree spirit and turn it into something darker.

On the other hand, he knew defying his father would bring consequences, terrible consequences on him. The whole of the Shimada family would shun him. Hanzo had his back to the wall. An impossible choice. His brother’s innocence or his father’s honor. Centuries of tradition and culture were against him. It was with the heaviest of hearts that he took a deep breath.

The words tasted like ash and sulfur in his mouth.

“I understand, Father.”

* * *

The cold hardwood raised goosebumps on her skin as she leaned forward, reaching for her toes. She tucked her head in, breathing deeply and holding the position. Stretching was important, even if the floor had no business being as cold as it was. Soft violins played in her ears. Loud enough to drown out the fluttering of the other dancers. They each had their own little group of friends, leaving Amélie to be the only outlier among them. Everyone was peering behind the curtain, giggling with happiness when they saw their family had come. It was a ritual, to look for family in the audience.

Amélie had stopped doing that years ago. The only constant at her recitals were the guards that were required to be there for a paycheck. As friendly as Jesse McCree was, he didn’t seem the type to attend a ballet voluntarily. Amélie sighed and stood, regret building in her chest. She had wanted to ask Lena to come, but every time she thought she had plucked up the courage to do it, something interrupted. Hana and Lúcio rushing into Lena’s room to ask where the nail polish remover was because Hana painted Lúcio’s nails the wrong shade of green. Fareeha and Angela barging into the house while Lena and Amélie did homework in the living room.

That was another interesting development Amélie had decided to stay out of. Fareeha swore up and down there was nothing between them. However, a blind man could see the way Angela would smile at Fareeha or the way Fareeha would become tongue-tied whenever Angela would brush delicate fingers on her forearm. Angela was in a relationship.

‘ _And yet…’_ She shook the thought from her head. It wasn’t her business. Drama wasn’t something she enjoyed. She had enough of her own to deal with at the dance studio. Her thoughts wandered back to Lena. The moment they did, her regret came pooling back. In the end, she had opted not to tell Lena out of fear of being laughed at. Not that she believed Lena would laugh at her, but all the times her father had when she asked were burned into her memory.

 _“You can’t expect me to go to some stupid dance recital, Amélie! I have work to do!”_ He’d laugh in her face while she held back tears. Lena wasn’t cruel like her father, but it wasn’t something Amélie wanted to test. Still, she felt anger building up in her. It was her father who was always pushing her to be the best in class, to be a refined young woman. Yet, he never bothers himself to see the fruits of her labor.

_‘What was the point of pushing so hard if he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me?’_

“Amélie?” The dance instructor pulled her out of her thoughts rather abruptly.

“Yes?” She asked, rather annoyed at being disturbed. She stood with grace and plucked her earbuds from their place, handing them and her phone to her instructor. They would eventually find their way into Amélie’s duffle bag.

“Are you ready for this?”

For a moment, Amélie felt the stage fright take hold of her. This wasn’t her first lead role, but it was the first time she would be performing in a large venue instead of some hole in the wall. The ball of knots in her stomach was building to the point of discomfort. Her fingertips began to feel cold, a telltale sign that she was nervous and scared.

Amélie had felt this nervous only once before. When her mother had taken her to America on vacation. An old faded memory rushed to the forefront of her mind, one long forgotten.

\--

_They were thousands of feet above sea level, slightly above the cloud bank. The sun reflecting off the fluffy, cotton clouds was nearly blinding in contrast to the dim lighting of the first-class cabin. It was breathtaking. However, a certain child was unimpressed with the sight just outside her window._

_“But I don’t want to go to America.” A 7-year-old Amélie whined, “Why can’t we go to that beach like last year?”_

_Her mother smiled warmly at her. Amélie smiled back, her two front teeth missing. She had pulled them out herself to cash out from the tooth fairy. Then she had stolen them back from her parents’ room to cash them in again. The tooth fairy was a sham and she felt proud of herself for finding a way to capitalize on the superstition. Her mother knew, of course. There was no way a seven-year-old had that many teeth to lose._

_She sighed, “Because that beach is in Mexico and right now, Mexico is having… problems. It’s not safe.”_

_Amélie pouted, “Well can we go see the mooses in Canada?”_

_“We saw the moose last month with your father.” Her mother began to stroke Amélie’s raven locks, “I promise you’ll like my surprise for you.”_

_“Promise?” Amélie’s hazel eyes were pleading. Her mother leaned over and kissed her forehead._

_“I promise.”_

_They had arrived at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport and drove straight to the hotel. Her mother urged her to sleep and rest for the big surprise the next morning._

_\--_

_It was a hot, humid day. The sun beamed down on the people below. It smelled like grease and sugar throughout the park. Amélie’s small arms were getting tired of holding her funnel cake up to her face. She liked the hot grease and powdered sugar despite the stomach ache taking up residence in her belly. She and her mother had been walking around the park for a couple of hours, enjoying the small prize stands and kiddie-coasters. The guards followed them, and it earned a few chuckles from the crowd to see muscular men sitting in pairs in tiny little boats on the rides. Amélie chewed thoughtfully on her funnel cake, curious and excited eyes scanning her surroundings for her next thrill._

_Then she saw it._

_Her eyes swept over the yellow colored supports and the crimson red track. The screams of people zipping down the drop rang in her ears and a gleeful smile spread across her face. Her eyes flitted to the name on the roller coaster._

_‘Dare Devil Dive.’_

_“I want to go on the big rollercoaster!” Amélie squealed. Her eyes were alight with wicked delight._

_Her mother, on the other hand, looked terrified. Still, she took shaky steps forward, Amélie’s hand pulling on hers._

_They arrived at the queue, showing the attendant their pass before being ushered to the front of the line. Amélie measured herself against a metal pole marked with the height requirement. She was barely above the mark, her mother’s face betrayed a hint of disappointment. Something told Amélie her mother was hoping she didn’t meet the requirements but Amélie was tall for her age._

_A couple minutes later, her mother was helping Amélie buckle in. They sat in the front row seats. A guard held her funnel cake in a massive hand, the breeze blowing the powdered sugar onto his suit._

_The teenage worker looked bored and hot, sweat droplets slowly rolling down his temple. Amélie had hardly felt the heat while she was there at the park, her excitement overriding her senses._

_“Please secure your belongings. Anyone with heart problems should not be on this ride, this includes pregnant women. Enjoy the ride.” He spoke in a flat tone, devoid of any enthusiasm. Not that Amélie noticed. The roller coaster train began to move forward with a jerk and Amélie squealed with excitement._

_They rounded the corner, the people in the back whooping. Then, they halted for a moment before the clicking began. Up, up, up they went, fully vertical. Her stomach suddenly clenched, the gravity of her situation finally taking hold and her palms began to sweat. Her fingertips felt like ice against the warm, sweaty flesh of her palms._

_Perhaps it was the funnel cake, or perhaps it was the fact that she could see the Goliath coaster on the other side of the park, or maybe it was the fact that she could see the sun bearing down on her directly, but she began to scream._

_“Stop the ride! Wait! Wait! St-“_

_They were over the hill before Amélie could take a breath and they dropped just as she let out a blood-curdling scream._

_\--_

“Amélie?” Her dance instructor called to her. She jolted back to the present.

“Yes?”

Her instructor laughed, “I asked if you were ready for this.”

Amélie nodded and smiled. Although she wondered if it looked at all genuine.

“Good. We start in 3 minutes.”

She watched as her instructor walked away, herding the dancers to their place on the edge of the stage to await their cue. Everyone quieted down as Amélie took her place at the center of the stage. She felt all the fear melt away, confidence settling into her bones.

She had prepared for this. Months of hard work, of pain, for this one night. Amélie closed her eyes, breathing deeply as the first notes of music began to play. Her arms moved into place and she listened to the sound of the fabric of the curtain as it rose. She saw the brightness of the lights through her eyelids. Her head was clear, her body moving without much guidance from her mind. She was one with the music.

Amélie’s felt herself begin to melt away. Her regrets, her worries, her pains. Gone.

For the next hour, she was infinite.

* * *

They bowed, sweaty and bleeding, but smiling. The dancer next to her held her hand in a death grip, probably to keep from sobbing in pain. Amélie had seen the girl stumble during the performance. Part of her was glad. That same girl had been the one vying for Amélie’s spot in the lead. She felt a smirk coming onto her face and took a deep breath to avoid betraying her emotions.

The curtain dropped and the people holding onto her hands let go, immediately flocking to their own little cliques from before. Amélie sighed, the fleeting feeling of satisfaction melting away as she headed for the changing room. Her feet were aching terribly, but she hobbled down the hallways, the sound of the others sighing and laughing at her back.

She changed quietly, replaying the performance in her head. Amélie cringed at the mistakes she remembered making and chastised herself for movements that were imprecise. Easy, careless errors were made. Moves made a beat too soon or a stutter step. She pushed her earphones back into her ear and began walking toward the exit which led to the main lobby. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, making mental notes on how to improve. She shot a quick text off to McCree, telling him to meet her at the auditorium entrance. She felt her phone buzz with a notification, but she opted to ignore it. Amélie walked out into the large foyer, the dancers behind her sounded like a swarm of bees which she was quick to step aside for as they rushed past her.

The foyer had polished marble floors with extravagant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Golden light from them washed over the massive columns that held up a detailed ceiling.

It was breathtaking, but it reminded her too much of her own house. Her own cold and lonely house.

She had hoped to avoid the crowds, filled with adoring family members, a painful reminder she didn’t have anything like that waiting for her.

The sight of a mother hugging her daughter and beaming with pride knocked the wind out of Amélie’s lungs. Grief. Heaps of it. The grief she hadn’t felt in years came crashing to the surface. Her mother had died. It wasn’t fair. None of it was. There was no one to watch her improve and accomplish. No one to hold her when she failed and praise her when she succeeded and thrived. The sight of a mother holding her daughter brought out a rage and an inconsolable misery in her that she had been bottling and pushing down for years. She was far too young to feel so alone and yet, she felt like the weight of the entire ocean was crashing over her, sweeping her away into oblivion. This was her life and there wasn’t a thing she could do to change it. Perhaps she was meant to live her days out in solitude. An auditorium full of people and yet, she felt like the only person on the planet.

“Amé?” A familiar voice called out to her. An anchor. An anchor to hold her until the storm passed and the sea calmed its fury. Another burst of emotion bloomed in her chest, this one much happier, relieved. It was overwhelming for her to feel so much at once.

Much to her horror, she began to cry.

Amélie turned, not caring about the tears streaming down her face. Sunny brown eyes met her own and she rushed forward into Lena. Amélie felt Lena’s arms immediately wrap around her and she let herself cry into the familiar smell of home. Quiet sobs wracked through her body as she cried and cried.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just Lena’s arms holding her. Small arms wrapped around them both from either side and she heard Lúcio and Hana’s hushed voices whispering to each other. More bodies joined the group hug, enveloping her and Lena in a comforting warmth Amélie never wanted to leave. She heard Angela quietly shushing and whispering soothing words in her native tongue. She wasn’t entirely sure how long they stayed like that. But she was reluctant to pull away from the secure warmth of Lena’s embrace. Strange how she felt so calm and safe with Lena.

“What is wrong, little one?” Reinhardt’s deep voice came from above her.

Amélie’s sobs had calmed to soft hiccups, making speech a little easier. “You came.”

Lena’s laughter bubbled up and it sounded like music to Amélie, something much more beautiful than any symphony ever created, “There is nowhere I would rather be, Amé.”

“We.” McCree corrected from behind her, “I got them tickets. Figured you would want a little more support than me.”

“We’re a little sad you didn’t invite us, Amélie.” Fareeha smiled at her, Angela standing next to her, their dresses, shimmering with every slight movement. Fareeha’s gold and Angela’s blue. They looked phenomenal, Angela’s golden hair cascading down her shoulders. Fareeha’s half bun made her look like the model of some high fashion magazine. They reminded Amélie vaguely of the sun and the moon. It was then that Amélie noticed they had all dressed up for her. Lúcio had slicked his hair back and wore a tiny pink suit, one that matched Hana’s bubblegum dress. Lena’s hair was a bit neater than usual, but usual rogue cowlick stood proudly at the back of her head. She was in the same suit she had on at the fundraiser two weeks ago. Reinhardt and Jesse wore similar suits. Winston had on a custom-tailored suit, his massive feet were bare.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” Amélie sniffled.

“You could never be a bother,” Angela smiled at her, “You were beautiful up there, love. You are quite talented.”

Lena furiously nodded in agreement, “Yeah! I really thought ballet was for rich snobs, but I think that’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Slowly, Amélie felt her desolation ebb away as those around her talked about their favorite parts of her performance. Pride took root in her stomach and a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. This felt like a different kind of pride. It wasn’t her usual spiteful pride where she competed against the others and won. She was proud of herself, purely for working hard and flourishing. She was proud of herself for herself and no one else.

* * *

She lay awake that night, listening to Jesse and Reinhardt’s monstrous snoring. Her mind wandered, replaying her forgotten memory from earlier. It had been a long time since she remembered what her mother looked or even sounded like. It was a bittersweet feeling. Amélie sat up slowly, her eyes sweeping the room. They had all changed into comfortable clothing, Angela wore one of Fareeha’s hoodies and running shorts. She noticed Angela and Fareeha gravitated towards each other in their sleep. Lena had fallen asleep next to her. The night had turned into a slumber party which effectively chased away the emotions from earlier.

They celebrated at home with pizza, ice cream, and a movie. McCree and Fareeha had competed against each other to see who could belch the loudest. Reinhardt and Angela spoke excitedly in German and they both eventually broke into song, which pulled laughs from everyone that was awake. Lúcio and Hana had fallen asleep leaning against each other with chocolate ice cream stains down the front of their pajama shirts. Amélie donned her own oversized shirt.

Amélie’s thoughts wandered again, to nowhere in particular. Lena’s breathing beside her kept her in the present, soothing and constant. Amélie turned on her side, her eyes settling on the back of Lena’s head. She was curled in on herself, shivering a little. Amélie wondered if perhaps she should pull Lena closer to keep her warm or if she should pull the blankets over her. Before she could make her decision, Lena made it for her by suddenly scooting backward into Amélie. She gasped in surprise as Lena’s cold feet found their way onto her warm shins. Amélie had a face full of hair and painfully ice-cold feet on her legs, but the content sigh she heard from Lena made her think twice about moving away.

She felt something warm in her chest begin to take root. Something that made her heart race as she reached a hand up to softly scratch Lena’s scalp. The warmth only increased as she felt Lena snuggle closer. Tentatively, she reached an arm around Lena and pulled her in. They fit together like puzzle pieces. She closed her eyes, her sadness no longer a concern.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face and the realization that she had been wrong all those months ago when she first met Lena.

Amélie did have a home after all.

* * *

It was 2 in the morning and Fareeha ran her fingers through her hair, staring at the contents of the refrigerator. She made a mental note to pick up some milk and orange juice on her way home from work. A lot had changed in the short span of a few months. She talked Reinhardt into letting her get a job to help around the house. He agreed on the condition that she keep up her straight A average until graduation. Though she hated working as a waitress at a nearby restaurant, the thought of feeding her siblings always gave her strength against particularly rude customers.

It wasn’t all that changed.

It had been a few months since Angela’s confession in her office. Fareeha would be lying if she said the words weren’t constantly playing in her head. however, neither party could figure out what to do about it. As much as it hurt them both, Fareeha and Angela did the only logical thing to do.

They acted like it never happened. There was a silent agreement to never speak of it again and Angela was careful to avoid mentioning Genji during her time with Fareeha.

They acted like friends. At school they waved to each other and Fareeha would wave back, pretending not to see the bright, happy boy holding onto Angela’s hand. Angela pretended not to see the flash of hurt in Fareeha’s dark eyes whenever Genji would bound up to them while they spoke outside of their classrooms.

It was an uncomfortable arrangement. But Fareeha was glad to at least have Angela as a friend. She was willing to take whatever she was given.

“Can’t sleep?” Reinhardt rumbled behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin, head whipping around to face him. The fridge light was bright enough to wash them both in a bluish-white light. He had a tank top and sweats that pooled at his ankles, covering his feet. It was a wonder he even found pants that were bigger than him.

Fareeha shook her head, “I always wake up about this time.”

Reinhardt nodded, “Me too.” His eyes weren’t twinkling like they normally did and Fareeha knew why. Everyone in the house did. The walls were thin in the house and his screams could be heard throughout the halls.

\--

_Hana had been the first to wake up scared, her little feet slapping the hardwood floor as she shot down the hallway to knock on his door. Lena and Winston were heavy sleepers, but Fareeha was quick to shoot up from bed._

_“Mr. Reinhardt!” Hana’s small voice was loud, panicked, “Are you okay?!”_

_Fareeha placed a hand on her back, gently trying to calm her down, “Hana. Hana calm down, sweetheart.”_

_Her frantic eyes came into focus as she turned to face Fareeha. She opened her mouth to protest just as Reinhardt’s door opened. Beats of sweat were formed on his forehead and his shirt was drenched in sweat. His breathing was fast and erratic._

_“Hana, my little one. Are you okay?” He asked, his voice quivering. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips._

_“I heard you yelling.” Hana’s bottom lip quivered._

_“Oh, no. That was the holovid, little one.” Reinhardt lied through his teeth. Fareeha gave him a knowing glance._

_However, Hana didn’t seem entirely convinced. Reinhardt knelt and wrapped her into a tight hug. “I’m all right, little one. I’m all right.” He pulled away from her and cupped her little face, giving her forehead a soft kiss goodnight._

_Hana followed as Fareeha walked her to her room, never commenting on the darkness behind Reinhardt as he hugged her. The holovid wasn’t even on. it wasn’t until the next morning, when Reinhardt sat them all down, that Hana finally understood._

_\--_

The beeping of the fridge is what brought her back from the past. It usually chirped when it was open for too long, a reminder to save energy and close the doors.

“What are you doing, Fareeha?” Reinhardt asked, his tone completely lacking its usual warmth.

Fareeha stuttered, “W-Well, I got thirsty, so I came -“

“No, Fareeha. I mean, what are you doing with Angela?” Reinhardt poured himself a drink from the liquor cabinet. He knocked the glass of vodka back like it was water before pouring himself another glass. “She has a boyfriend.”

“We’re just friends,” Fareeha mumbled.

Reinhardt laughed humorlessly, “Your mother and I, we were just friends. And I remember how I felt every time Sam came around the base.”

Fareeha winced at the mention of her father’s name, but she held steady. “It’s fine. There’s nothing between us.”

He met her eyes, giving her a knowing, pointed, look, “I have raised you since you were up to my knee, little one. I know you. And I know your heart yearns for her. I know because my heart ached for Ana.” He sighed, knocking his drink back. “Angela is a good girl. She’s going to be a fine young woman. But I do not think it is right for her to string that poor boy along if she has feelings for you. And the same goes the other way around. She shouldn’t lead you on if she doesn’t plan to leave that Shimada boy. No one deserves that.” He set his glass in the sink with care so as not to wake the others in the living room, and left to his room upstairs.

Fareeha closed the refrigerator door, her thoughts no longer on her dry mouth. She made her way back to her spot next to Angela, Reinhardt’s words in her head. She watched Angela with careful eyes, debating the pros and cons of ending whatever it was they had between them. Reinhardt was right. It wasn’t just nothing. She wouldn’t feel so lightheaded and discombobulated around Angela if it really was nothing.

Fareeha was toeing a dangerous line.

Still, her eyes traced the soft curve of Angela’s jawline. The golden shower of hair that fell on her face. Fareeha’s clothes fit a little big on her but the image before her was perfect. There was no way she could give something so special up. She lay down beside Angela, careful not to touch her. Fareeha closed her eyes and sighed.

Unfortunately, Reinhardt was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....down.
> 
> Anyway. The song/chapter title is mainly for Hanzo and Amélie. my kids.  
> Shoot me an ask and i promise i won't bite. Send me your arts if you make them, i will treasure them.
> 
>  
> 
> [hellaclassyfabandsassy](http://hellaclassyfabandsassy.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Metric- [Blindness](https://youtu.be/W7vHKNsstPU)


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